He Speaks in Accents Familiar
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: My final contribution to the Help Haiti auction. Tim-centered but with heavy element of teamwork. The team gets a grim new case, and Vance assigns Abby to return to an old one. Complete.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is my final piece from the Help Haiti auction. Took me ages to finish it...but it's done. Tim is the focus, but there is a lot of teamwork in this one...for reasons you'll see soon.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own NCIS, nor do I make money from these stories. More's the pity.

* * *

**He Speaks in Accents Familiar  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Prologue**

Tim kicked the copier in frustration.

"Work, dang it!" He was in a hurry and so, of course, the machine wouldn't work. "Work!"

"Hey! Stop kicking my machine!" a strident female voice rang out behind him.

Tim turned around, in a very bad mood, and was confronted by an angry woman, nearly his height.

"Those machines are expensive and when they have to get fixed, they cost the _taxpayer_ money. Do you got that, Mr. Special Agent? If it's not working, _ask_ someone for help, idiot!"

"You said that this is _your_ machine?"

"Might as well be. I use it more than the rest of you combined."

Tim strove for calm, taking a couple of deep breaths. He'd been raised better than this. "Then, can you tell me what's going on?"

She recognized the change in his tone instantly and nodded, slipping past him to check the copier and the settings.

"What are you trying to do?"

Tim sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. "I'm running a seminar on computer forensics in about twenty minutes. Director Vance asked me to do it. I said that I wasn't the best choice, that others were better at both the field itself and at presenting the material. He disagreed and said that he wasn't trusting the Cybercrimes people to explain in English. I just wanted to get copies for the handouts I made so that when I make a complete fool out of myself the seminar won't be a complete waste of time for the people who have to attend. Okay?"

The woman looked at him in surprise. "_You're _Timothy McGee?"

"Yeah. Why?" Then, he groaned. "You're coming aren't you. ...oh, great. Maybe I should just tender my resignation right now. They're going to be bored out of their minds. Tony and Ziva will never let me live it down. I thought this day couldn't _get_ any worse." He reached out to take the pages from the copier. One was jammed in the feeder. "Oh, forget it. It's a waste of time anyway."

Completely embarrassed and humiliated, Tim turned and walked away from the woman, leaving the handouts in the copier, ignoring her calls for him to come back. He needed to hide somewhere...just long enough either for the red to drain from his face or else for the whole seminar to be over. He'd prefer the latter, but he knew that he had to go with the former.

He'd just have to do it without the handouts. He still had his PowerPoint. That would be good enough. He could just make an announcement that they would be available later on. It wouldn't make the presentation any better...but at least it wouldn't make him look incompetent.

Tim had no idea why he was so nervous about this whole thing. He hadn't ever thought he would be in a situation like this. ...but the fact remained that, from the moment Vance had assigned him to run this seminar, he had been a bundle of nerves. Tony's snide comments didn't help, of course, and all the special agents had to attend...from the technology-challenged agents like Gibbs and Lovitz down to the agents who just didn't care like Tony and Ziva, down to the new guys like Adam Saunders who thought they knew everything. Besides Vance, there would be maybe...two people who would be interested in what he was going to tell them.

Tim took a deep breath and knew that he couldn't put it off any longer. He dashed quickly to the men's room and grimaced at his still-flushed cheeks and his screwed up hair. The hair, at least, he could fix relatively quickly. His face...well, he'd tried for years to do something about his face. No luck so far. He stuck out his tongue at himself and headed to the presentation room.

A brief pause outside the door as he wished for his handouts as a kind of security blanket. Then, he walked inside. He felt the heat rising in his face as he noticed the woman from the copier already in there...and seemingly waiting for him at the front of the room. Most of the other agents were in their seats, chatting amiably with each other.

"Timmy, I'm so excited for this," Abby said in her usual soft yell.

"Abbs..." Tim said, faltering. "You don't need to be here. You're not..."

"I know, but I was so excited to see what you were going to say and I finished entering in all the samples from the Ashworth case. I had the time and I wanted to come anyway. That's what friends are for, Tim!"

"Thanks, Abby," Tim said, smiling weakly. He didn't want _Abby_ here. Abby, who would know when he faltered, who would know when he screwed up on a procedure.

_I'm so dead._

Another deep breath and he walked to the front of the room, just barely managing to avoid the foot Tony stuck out to trip him. He did feel a faint measure of satisfaction at the _thwack!_ which resounded behind him as he continued on his way.

"Hey, Agent McGee," the woman said, covering the last bit of distance between them and speaking in a low voice, "I think you'll need these for your presentation." She held out a pile of collated and stapled guidesheets. In his eyes, she became an angel of mercy sent from on high to save him from emotional wrack and ruin.

"Thank you," he said, knowing he sounded both surprised and desperately happy. "How...How can I thank you?"

She smiled. "I think you already did, Agent McGee. Don't worry about it. I'm excited to see what you're doing. I flipped through the handouts as I came up. They look really interesting."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You obviously know what you're talking about."

Tim felt a different kind of warmth spread through him. He didn't even know her name, but he knew that she didn't think he was a complete dolt, that she could tell he was nervous, and that she had taken it upon herself to help him out. That was enough...for now.

The door opened and Vance came in. Tim straightened slightly and then watched in surprise as the woman walked back toward him.

"Ah, Ms. Kionen, I'm glad you could make it. Agent McGee, are you ready to begin?"

"Yes, Director. I'm ready," Tim said, feeling suddenly ready as he hadn't been before.

"Good," Vance said. He looked around at the assembled agents. "I am aware that any of you could be called out at a moment's notice, but do keep in mind that this is a required seminar. So don't try to fake a call to get out of it. Who knows, _some_ of you might even learn something useful."

He gestured for Tim to start. Tim swallowed, met the attentive gaze of Ms. Kionen and began.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, way to go, McGeek," Tony called. "You didn't even embarrass us!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Tony."

"McGee, I'll need you to go over that data set again before you leave tonight," Gibbs said.

"I will, Boss."

Ziva smiled. "It was very interesting, McGee. I am almost glad I had to come."

"Almost?" Tim asked with a grin.

"Yes...well, computers and I do not generally get along...but I do have more respect for what _you_ do for us."

"Thanks, Ziva."

Abby had been forced to slip out early, as had a couple of others, but by some miracle, all the field agents had been able to stay for the entire seminar. Tim began cleaning up the room, shutting down the projector, not really paying attention to anything else.

"It was a good presentation...and they were useful handouts."

Tim jumped and turned around. He flushed again. "Hi."

"Eloquent, to say the least," she said with a smile. "I'm Linda Kionen. I'm Director Vance's new assistant. I just started three weeks ago." She held out her hand.

"Timothy McGee," Tim said, flushing. "I'm a special agent."

"Nice to meet you, Agent McGee."

"I'm sorry I kicked your copier."

"I'm sorry I bit your head off. I could have been a bit more tactful. You were obviously stressed out."

Tim shuffled his feet a little. He felt more than a little awkward...and he wasn't sure what to say.

"Um...thanks for your help...with the copies. What had I done?"

"You were trying to make it both collate _and_ do multiple reprints at the same time...and you'd also hit the size reduction button."

"I really do know how to use copiers."

"You were flustered. It's okay."

"Thanks."

"You said that already, Agent McGee."

Tim opened his mouth to say...something when the door opened.

"McGee, come on. Call came in. Gibbs gave the data set to Abby to finish."

"What is it, Tony?"

"We have a case. Let's go!" Tony ordered and withdrew.

"Bye," Tim barely remembered to say and ran out the door, almost afraid to find out what had happened that had made Tony so somber.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_DEATH TO THE NAVY!_

Tim swallowed a bit as he took a photo of the message painted on the wall...in what looked like blood. The words were so large that it could have taken up all the blood a human being carried. ...and there was no body. They were all solemn as they documented the scene.

"Well, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"I do not know what exactly you want me to do here, Jethro. I need a body to determine time and cause of death."

"What? No simple exsanguination?"

_Thwack!_

"Well, the blood is relatively fresh. Either the source was a relatively recent donor..."

"...or else they saved it," Tony said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Man, what kind of sicko would do that?"

"We will need to have Abigail test samples from every letter. If what I fear is correct, then it would take a man's life to write that message on the wall."

Tim looked at the letters. A man's life could be represented there. ...but what if it wasn't? He repeated his thought aloud.

"Then, that means we have multiple possible victims," Gibbs said.

"What if it's not even real blood?" Tony asked.

"Let's worry about one thing at a time, shall we?" Ducky suggested.

"That is more than enough," Ziva agreed as she went forward to begin taking samples of the letters.

Tim shuddered. Way more than enough.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance wanted a report on the investigation as soon as possible, but he knew better than to try and push Gibbs to talk before he was ready. ...trying to get him to talk when he _was_ ready was difficult enough. The preliminary was bad. Enough blood to indicate the death of a Navy man. Even if it wasn't human blood, even if it wasn't Navy personnel...it was a bad sign. His phone indicated a call from the outer office.

He leaned over and pushed the call button. "Yes, Ms. Kionen?"

"_You have a call waiting for you in MTAC, Director. SecNav. He said it was important."_

"Thank you. If Agent Gibbs comes up with the report, make sure he leaves it on my desk. I don't want to be blindsided by anything."

"_Understood."_

Vance disconnected and grabbed a different file. He knew what the SecNav wanted. Before he left the office, he took a deep breath and sighed. He hated these kinds of meetings. It was times like these that he wished he was still an agent.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Abby?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"You're probably looking for at least four victims, Gibbs," Abby said seriously. "There are three different blood types, two O positives, one O negative, and one AB positive."

Tony furrowed his brow. "Wait...why four then?"

"I'm making an assumption, Tony," Abby said. "Each of the blood types was from a different word. I'm guessing that whoever did it used the blood of a different person for each word. This is creepy, Gibbs."

"Don't you mean hinky?"

"No...this doesn't look hinky. It's creepy. Painting a warning in blood? That's like...like..."

"It's like _Se7en_!" Tony said. "Only...it's a warning instead of one of the seven deadly sins. I hope we don't get Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a box."

_Thwack!_

"Where's McGee?"

Abby pointed into her office where Tim could be seen working at the computer. "He's running through the database, looking for anyone who might be missing, UA, off sick, whatever...with those particular blood types."

"Isn't O positive the most common blood type?"

"Yeah, that's why he's not done yet, Tony," Abby said.

Tim stood up and ran out of the office.

"I'm done!" Tim said. "...but there are too many possibilities that we'll have to verify."

"How many?"

"Thirty missing, sick or on leave with type O positive. Ten with O negative. Four with AB positive," Tim said. "That's just in the Metro area. I haven't checked with Norfolk yet."

"What are you waiting for, McGee?"

"I thought you'd like to get started, Boss. It's going to take time to run all these people down."

"Have fun, McGee," Tony said.

_Thwack!_

"You and Ziva get started tracking these people down. McGee..."

"I'm on it, Boss," Tim said, his expression somber. He turned to go and then paused. "Boss? What if–?"

"Go, McGee."

"Yes, Boss." Tim ran back to Abby's office and instantly was back in his computer world, back to his facts and figures, the things that made so much more sense to him.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much else. There was a fiber from a paint brush...but it's from a typical cheap paint brush you could buy anywhere. It's not gonna help." Abby bit her lip and looked at the message on the wall. "I never thought a simple message would be so freaky."

Tony looked at the image. "How many messages do you get written in the blood of multiple people?"

"Good point."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony hung up the phone. "Ensign Charles wasn't too happy about being quote/unquote _interrupted_ while visiting his girlfriend."

Ziva smiled but didn't answer. "Oh, yes. I see. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Yes, we will keep searching. Thank you. Good-bye." She hung up the phone. "Lt. Blazer has been committed to psychiatric observation for the last three days."

"Oh. Yikes." Tony sighed. "Who's left?"

"I have ten names."

"I have fourteen. How did you get through so quickly?"

"I did not try to congratulate them on their conquests when they said they were having special dates," Ziva replied.

"Anyone?"

"One."

"None for me yet." He started to dial. "I keep hoping that this is all a mistake."

"Yes...but it does not seem to be."

"Nope. Oh...hi. Yes, this is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS." Tony stopped and listened. "Really. Yes. Yes, thank you, ma'am. Yes, we'll be over to speak with you. Yes. We have the address. I'm sorry. Yes. Good-bye." He hung up.

"Missing?"

"She had just opened the door to the room where she thought her son was sleeping."

Ziva shook her head. "Two."

"Looks like it."

"Will we find them alive or dead?"

"Probably dead," Tony said, and then looked at the file. "Hey. What unit is the one you found in?"

"Artillery."

"Dang it. Mine's an officer. It would have been easier if they had all been in the same unit."

"If it is someone wishing death on the whole Navy, then it would make more sense for them to spread out the people they took."

"Yeah. I know."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Would you like me to file that for you, Director?" Linda asked.

"No. I'll keep a hold of it, thanks. Could you ask Ms. Sciuto to come up and see me when she has a moment?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. Just send her right in when she arrives."

Linda nodded. "Yes, sir."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was flipping through old case files. It was a rare moment when she didn't have much to do. She usually filled those few moments by looking at older cases which had foiled her. There weren't many, but there were _some_.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

"Excuse me, Ms. Sciuto?"

Abby whirled around.

"Hey," she said, awkwardly, taken by surprise. "You're Vance's assistant."

"Yes. Linda Kionen."

"Right."

"I tried to call you, but either your phone isn't working or else you couldn't hear it over this noise." She smiled.

Abby grinned. "I usually hear my phone no matter what but I guess there's always a first time. What can I do you for? What brings you into my lair? It's not very often I get visitors from so far above ground down here in my domain. I mean, you know, it's not very often even that Director Vance comes down here. When he does, it's weird because he's not as friendly and I don't ever know how to refer to him and..." Abby paused. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Yes. Are you finished with your thought? I didn't want to interrupt."

"I'm never finished."

"Well, you got on the correct topic anyway. The director would like to speak with you."

"About what?"

"I don't know. He didn't tell me. He simply requested that you come to his office. I'm not sure how urgent it is, but I'm still new to this job and I don't want to lose it because I misinterpreted a request."

"Oh. Well...I've got some time right now. I could come up now." Abby logged off her computer, wrote a sticky note and stuck it to her monitor. "I'll come with you now. How about that?"

"Are you...always like this, Ms. Sciuto?" Linda asked.

Abby laughed. "If I'm not you'll know there's a problem."

"I'll keep that in mind."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Director Vance?" Abby asked.

Vance looked up. "Ah, good. Ms. Sciuto, please have a seat. I need to ask you about a case you worked a few years ago."

"Me? I just process. I don't work cases," Abby said. Something about Vance...and the office, made her feel like a kid in school, on her best behavior.

"This particular case would be in your purview."

"Which one?"

"Four years ago, the MCRT intercepted a briefcase from a covert courier service. That case was subsequently blown up."

"Yeah, by some eager beaver bomb squad people who didn't listen to me when I told them what to do."

Vance's mouth twitched in the merest suggestion of a smile.

"Regardless, Agent Gibbs then assigned you to reassemble it."

"Yeah...and it's not done, Director Vance," Abby confessed. "I only work on it when I have time and...well, I don't have a lot of free time. Even with Ziva helping when she can...it's just not...done."

"That's all right. I know that it's been in evidence lockup for months. I'd like you to move it up on your priority list. Not above the active cases, but keep it out and on your mind."

"Can I ask why, Director?"

"You can, although I can't give you much information. I only know that there are some people who think this is an important mystery to solve."

"Do they know something we don't?"

"If they do, they're not telling us."

Abby hesitated. "Should I salute now?"

"Are you in the Navy, Ms. Sciuto?"

"No."

"Then, saluting isn't necessary. That's all."

"Yes, sir." Abby saluted.

She caught a faint hint of a smile.

"Get to work, Ms. Sciuto."

Abby grinned. "Yes, Director Vance."

She headed out of the office and waved cheerily at Linda as she passed.

"You survived?"

"I always survive. I'm cute!" Abby declared.

Linda rolled her eyes but smiled and got back to work. Abby continued down to evidence lockup. She stifled a groan at the thought of returning to that briefcase. It was so tedious. The worst kind of work to do.

"But it _is _my job. Maybe I can bribe Ziva into helping me out again...or Tim. He'd help if he had time." They had managed to reassemble the front, including the combination lock, and the top but that was almost all. To say nothing of the interior contents.

"Here we go again," Abby said.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

By the end of the day, four men had been found to be missing among the ranks of the Navy. One was from Norfolk, three from the Metro area. Two were in the Marines. One was a newly enlisted petty officer and one a lieutenant, just come ashore. Four men missing, obviously badly injured, possibly dead.

It went without saying that no one went home early that day. Nor did they go home on time. It was late, very late when the MCRT reached their limits of coherency.

"All right, that's it. Go home," Gibbs grunted, looking at the clock which was edging toward midnight.

Tim blinked a few times in Gibbs' direction but didn't seem to comprehend what he was actually saying. Tony's eyes were drooping, and even Ziva was not all there.

"Huh?" Tony asked, blearily.

"Get some sleep. You're not going to do anything for these guys if you can't keep your eyes open." Suiting actions to words, he began to pack up to leave.

Tim was slow to get going, even as Tony and then Ziva zoomed out.

"You waiting for a personal invitation, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim yawned widely. "No. Did...Abby leave already?"

"I doubt it."

"See you tomorrow, Boss," Tim said and got up, heading toward the elevator that would take him down to the lab. He didn't see Gibbs' resigned smile.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abbs?" Tim asked. The lab was strangely silent. "Hello?"

"Over here, Tim!" Abby called.

Tim walked around to the office. Abby was in with...Tim flushed with remembered embarrassment.

"Hi!" Abby said cheerfully. "I decided that since you guys were so busy with the case that when I was upstairs, I saw Linda getting ready to leave; so I grabbed her and forced to come on down and help me out. The music was a bit loud for her tastes so I turned it off."

Linda gave a weak smile at Tim over Abby's head.

"Abby, it's nearly midnight," Tim pointed out.

"It is?" Abby looked up. "Wow. It is! Why are you still here, Linda?"

Linda laughed. "You didn't stop talking long enough for me to suggest that I needed to go."

Tim laughed. "A word to the wise? Don't wait for Abby to stop talking. Ow!" He rubbed his arm.

"Serves you right," Abby said mock-glaring at him and waving a threatening fist. "I can be _very_ quiet."

Tim leaned over. "Only when she's sleeping," he whispered.

"You'd know, wouldn't you, McGee," Abby said.

Tim blushed. He should have seen that coming.

"Am I free to leave then?" Linda asked.

Tim nodded. "You're always free to leave...well, the lab at any rate. I'm pretty sure your job doesn't cover being Abby's slave."

"Sounds to me like that was _your_ job at one point."

Tim felt his face growing even hotter. Abby chuckled and held out her hand.

"Excellent!"

Linda hesitated and then gave the requested high five, slightly awkwardly.

"Well, if I'm free to go, then I'll head home. It was...educational, Ms. Sciuto."

"Oh, call me Abby. No one calls me Ms. Sciuto except people like Vance who are..." She stumbled to a halt.

"More formal?" Tim suggested helpfully.

"Yes! That's it."

"I'll leave you two to...whatever you're going to do."

"Oh, we're not..." Tim trailed off as Abby gave him another threatening glance.

Linda merely laughed again, grabbed her coat and made good her escape.

"Gosh, McGee, you're ready to spontaneously combust. You that attracted to her?"

Tim blushed...again. "I'm not attracted to her. I'm...She... We had an awkward introduction over the copy machine. I'm afraid I didn't acquit myself very well."

Abby patted his hand. "Oh, poor Timmy."

Tim shook his head. "No, Abby. I'm not attracted to her. She did save my bacon though."

"And so you're going to flip between pretending to be suave and getting embarrassed every time you're in the same room with her?"

Tim made some vague motions with his hands. "Probably."

Abby laughed. "What are you coming down here for anyway? It's past midnight."

"I just wanted to see what you were doing. Gibbs mentioned that you hadn't left yet."

"Vance asked me to look at the briefcase from a few years ago."

"What briefcase?"

"Your first encounter with a taser?" Abby reminded him.

Tim winced. "Oh, right. That case. Why are you looking at that now? I thought you'd given up on it."

"I had...but Vance told me that it was important again."

"Oh. You want some help?"

Abby hugged Tim around the waist. "Oh, yes! Linda was fine but, as she told me, she's not really very good and putting things together. I mostly had her here so I could grill her. She's not bad."

"Anything interesting?"

"Besides her very firm opinions on who should be allowed to touch the office supplies? Not really. She's nice and all, but I think I like Cynthia better."

"Me, too, but it was her choice to leave." Tim looked at the remnants. "Man, I forgot how many pieces there were."

"Yeah. So did I...until I got it back out again. Vance said it's not top priority, but I need to work on it when I have time. Any progress on the case?"

"We finally figured out who's missing. They don't have anything in common...except that they're part of the Navy. I got a bad feeling about this one, Abbs. I don't think we're going to find them in time."

"That's no way to think!"

"I know, but...that blood. The message. I don't know. We've seen worse before...but somehow this is still worse."

"Maybe it's because we don't know. It seems more serious when there's no way of telling if you're looking for victims or survivors."

"You going to work on this still tonight?"

Abby shot Tim a look. He pretended not to notice.

"Yeah, a little longer. I could definitely use the help."

"Okay. Let's go."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They ended up working on the briefcase for another hour before Abby called time. Deciding that it was probably better...and easier...to stay at NCIS, Abby pulled out her futon and they shared it. It took Tim a few minutes of embarrassment before he would snuggle down next to Abby on the floor. She insisted and yanked his arm out of its socket before he acquiesced. They fell asleep almost instantly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Awwww, aren't they sweet? Cuddled up like lovebirds."

Tim felt a heavy weight on his chest. _Am I having a heart attack?_ he wondered tiredly.

"Tony, you could simply wake them up."

"Why would I do something reasonable like that? If I had known we were going to have a slumber party, I would have hung around."

Tim yawned and felt the weight shift.

"Oh..oh..look! I think...I think he might be waking up."

_Thwack!_

"Thanks, Boss."

Tim came awake with a start and sat up, rolling Abby unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Hey!" she protested sleepily. "What's going on?"

"A new day has begun, you two. I thought that you were familiar with rule twelve which states..."

_Thwack!_

"Nevermind."

Tim looked up at the trio. Ziva looked amused. Tony was rubbing his head and Gibbs was glowering.

"It's morning," Tim said.

"Yeah, McGee. It is."

Abby sat up and grinned. "Well, then isn't it a good thing that we're here already and rarin' to go?"

"Are you?"

Tim got up quickly. "Yeah, Boss. I'm ready. Ready. Definitely. We weren't..."

Abby got up and grinned evilly. "Oh, Timmy, come on. We're among friends! We're all adults here!"

Tim blushed. "Abby...now is not the time."

_Thwack!_

Tim winced and rubbed his head.

"You're darn right now is not the time. Need I remind you that we're trying to save the lives of four men?"

Tim gulped. "No, Boss. I'll get right on that. I had sent in the requests for their phone records last night. It should...be through by now."

Gibbs glared at him for a few seconds more and then gestured for him to get going. Tim gave Abby one last weak smile and then hurried out of the lab. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble for sleeping too long...and he could live without the innuendo.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Director Vance?"_

"Yes?"

"_Agent Gibbs is here to see you."_

"Thank you, Ms. Kionen. Send him in."

"_Yes, sir."_

The door opened less than a second later.

"You have a report for me, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded, his face grim. "So far it seems as though our missing seamen were randomly selected. McGee can't find anything in their records to indicate that they knew each other. All of them were taken within 24 hours of each other; so there's probably a group involved in this somehow. Tony and Ziva are running down some leads regarding anti-Navy and anti-military groups."

"Anything solid?"

"Not yet."

Vance nodded, hearing what Gibbs wasn't saying.

"They're probably dead, Agent Gibbs."

"Maybe."

"The amount of blood on the wall? The fact that they've been missing for more than two days? The odds are high against them."

"We know the odds, Director."

Vance sat back and considered the case. He'd apprised himself of their progress thus far, but it wasn't encouraging.

"What about the Norfolk team?"

"They're checking with the friends of Lt. Grayson to pin down just when he went missing and we're checking with the friends and families here."

"Very well. I'll hope for a happy ending, Gibbs..."

Gibbs didn't reply; he just turned around and left. It wasn't as though there was much to say. They all knew how slim the chances were.

Vance sighed. Seeing the worst humanity could do to itself was sometimes very draining.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Over the ensuing hours, Tim had no time to talk to Abby. No one did much talking, in fact. Tim had thrown himself into the records of the abductees, hoping to find one point of contact among them all, something that would explain their disappearance, something that might point them in the right direction.

Tony and Ziva were out tracking the movements of the three men taken from the Metro area. Gibbs was sharing his time out between Abby, Ducky and Vance and his various team members.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim rubbed his eyes tiredly. He'd done these kinds of searches before. Many times. It's just that there was so much data to plow through. Credit records, phone records, anything that might show where and when these men had disappeared...and how they'd been chosen.

"Having fun, I see?"

Tim jumped.

"Hi, Linda. Please don't tell me that you need me to make a report."

She smiled. "Sorry, but yes. Director Vance is needing some input. I think he has a lot of people on his case about this."

"Yeah well...I have a whole lot of nothing right now." Tim sighed. "There's just so much to get through."

"Do you want me to say that I couldn't find you?" Linda asked. "Maybe you're on the phone with some important lead?"

Tim shook his head. "No. Then, when I didn't _have_ the important lead, I'd get in trouble."

"I could say it was a crank call...or..."

Tim suddenly looked at her. "Wait. Wait!"

"What?"

Tim held up a finger and then started typing again. He brought up all the phone records for the last month on the plasma.

"Okay. Look at this with me."

"Okay..."

Tim grabbed Linda by the arm and pulled her over. She gave him a look but smiled tolerantly.

"Right. Now, I had been doing searches for phone numbers that were the same. There aren't any. Right?"

"I'll take your word for it."

Tim grinned. "Do. I promise. So...do you know what it takes to get an 866 number?"

"No. I don't. You have to have a business, don't you?"

"No, that's the thing. You don't. You can just pay for one. They have these people who are in charge of selling out the various numbers and the requirements are really really lax. It's also almost impossible to figure out who sold which number because the vendors are rather touchy about giving out that kind of information. After all, if a person is getting calls from a telemarketer, they're not going to be happy about it, right?"

"Right...but what does this have to do with me standing here?"

"Oh, sorry. Okay, now, look during the week before these guys all disappeared. What do you see?"

Tim waited, and he was surprised when she instantly caught on. She walked over to the plasma.

"They all got three calls from 866 numbers. They're all different, but not drastically, and they're all right before they disappeared." She looked at Tim. "And they're all conversations, not just hangups."

Tim nodded. "Exactly! I got something!"

"Good. You mind sharing it with the rest of us?"

Tim spun around. Gibbs and Vance were staring at him.

"I'm sorry, Director. It was my fault," Linda said quickly. "I was asking him about the case. I got distracted."

"What do you got, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"If we can get a search authorization, I can find out who owns these numbers and see if it's the same person and if we can use that to find them. They're 866 and anyone can have them. These numbers are so similar that it seems unlikely they're unrelated. It's not Linda's fault. She actually got me thinking about it."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Vance asked.

"I'm on it, Boss." He looked at Linda. "Thanks for your help."

Linda smiled. "Anytime, Agent McGee. Director. Agent Gibbs."

After she left, Tim was slightly worried that he'd get in trouble.

"What are these numbers going to tell us...ideally, McGee?"

"Who called these four guys, who they talked to. It will give us a lead at least because all of them actually had a conversation based on the length of time they were connected...and there's no voice mail."

"Call for the authorization," Vance said. "I hope your lead pans out, Agent McGee."

"So do I, sir."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby sighed and looked over her shoulder. She had some free time. The briefcase was still there.

"Man, I wish I was busy, Bert," she said.

"Hey, Abby! We have some more stuff for you!"

Abby spun around.

"Tony! You're my hero!" she said and gave him a hug.

"Wow. Why?"

"Because you're keeping me away from the evil tedious briefcase."

Ziva looked back into the office. "That? Why are you working on that again?"

"Vance asked me to. You have time, feel free," Abby said, snatching the fibers from Tony and signing for them. "What are these?"

"We want to see if any of our guys were taken directly from their homes. Bedroom and bathroom. Have fun."

"_Anything_ is better than the briefcase blown into smithereens."

Ziva smiled. "That is too much jigsaw for me."

"Too much for me, too. Maybe I should get this case solved for you really fast. Then, you could help me more."

"Oh, no! Run!" Tony said.

Abby slugged him and stuck out her tongue. "You're lucky I have work to do. Otherwise, I'd _force_ you to help me. I got Tim to help last night."

"That's because McGee worships at your altar. You can give him a look and he'll come running. You _were_ sleeping together this morning."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Tony, you have your mind in the gutters. They were sleeping and both were fully clothed."

"This being McGee, he would have made sure that Abby's honor wasn't spoiled."

"My _honor_?" Abby asked with a grin. "Go away. You're distracting me from hairs and fibers."

"Enjoy."

Abby heard them leave and turned up her music, letting the throbbing beat pull her into her work. The briefcase was mercifully forgotten for the moment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Lt. Charles Grayson woke up, feeling the chains binding him to the wall. It was dark in the room, but he could sense the other bodies. Hot and close. Like a prison. It stank like a prison. It _was_ a prison, just not one mandated by any state.

He hadn't heard anything from Lennie, the petty officer who had been chained next to him, for the last few hours. Attempts at communication had been fruitless. He himself wasn't sure why he was still able to think, able to speak.

He heard a sound.

"Lennie?"

"S-sir?"

"Just relax, sailor. There's time."

"Are you sure, sir?" His voice was weak. How much blood had she taken from him? The woman was more dangerous than the men were. They were muscle, but she was the brains. She had taken his blood herself and he had no doubt that she had done it to the others just as eagerly.

"Sir?"

Charles took a breath. It was hard to breathe in this hot, airless, dark room. That was another voice. One of the Marines. Eduardo or something. Alvarez was his last name.

"Alvarez?"

"Yes...sir...sir...it's..."

"We're going to die," Lennie said softly.

"We are not going to die, petty officer. We will stay alive because that is our duty." He got into his superior officer mode and forced the weakness out of his voice.

"Karl is dead," Eduardo whispered. "No pulse. Must have died sometime...earlier."

There were footsteps outside the door. They all fell silent, waiting...both hoping and dreading the opening of the door.

There was no creak of the rusty hinges, only a voice, magnified, saying, "Not self but country! Die to save your country. All of you!"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Abby ran up to the bullpen, so excited with what she'd found that she didn't want to take the time to call first.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! I found something!" she announced.

Her face fell. Tim was working at his computer, totally immersed. Everyone else was dozing. Gibbs was...absent.

"Hey!" she shouted, stomping her foot.

Tony and Ziva both sat up.

"What?" Tony asked, yawning widely.

Ziva blinked a few times.

Tim didn't move, apparently deaf to Abby's glee.

"I have something to tell you!"

"What is it, Abbs?" Gibbs asked, coming right behind her.

Abby jumped and turned around.

"Gibbs! I have something!"

Tim suddenly rejoined the outside world. "Boss, I found them!"

"Hey, me first!" Abby protested. "I was done first!"

"What?"

"You're stealing Abby's thunder, McGee," Tony said.

Ziva grinned. "Yes, and I believe that she is ready to rain all over you."

Tony gave Ziva a look but didn't say anything.

"What is it, Abbs?" Gibbs asked again.

"I got an ID!"

"From what?"

"The bathroom! There were a couple of hairs that did not belong to the petty officer! They belonged to–"

"Theresa Janssen?" Tim suggested.

"McGee!" Abby whined.

"Wasn't it?"

Abby glared. "It was...Theresa Janssen. How did you know?"

"She's the one who got one of the 866 numbers who called the missing guys."

"Who are the others?"

"A couple of minor criminals," he said. "Greg Manior and Lucas Turner. No connection to her so far...but I don't think it's a coincidence. Turner was a washout from SEAL training. Manior was in NROTC, but nothing beyond that. I don't know why. It's not in his records."

"I'm on the BOLO, Boss," Tony said.

"I have their addresses, Boss."

"Good," Gibbs said. "Tony, Ziva. Get out and check. McGee, find a connection between these guys. Abbs?"

Abby looked a bit put out. "Well, I was _going_ to tell you that I found a fingerprint, too, but I got _interrupted_ by someone."

Tim flushed and hitched a shoulder.

"Whose?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I'm not naming any names, but his name starts with a T and ends with an Imothy."

"Abby!"

"Greg Manior left me a nice partial index at Karl Dryer's lodgings."

"Anything from Turner?" Tim asked.

"No, but that's two out of three."

"Good enough. Get a search authorization for all of them."

"Yes, Boss!" Tim headed off to follow his orders.

"Well, Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked at Abby, her arms folded across her chest. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"That's good work, Abbs."

"Thank you," she said primly...and then groaned. "Great, if we've solved this one, that means that I have to get back to the briefcase again. Yuck."

Gibbs ignored that and ran up to Vance's office.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So, you want to lead or you want me to?" Tony asked.

"I will allow you to."

"_Allow_? I'm the senior agent. I was giving you the option...probationary agent David."

Ziva rolled her eyes but didn't rise to the bait. Tony grinned and knocked on the door.

"Lucas Turner!" he called out. "NCIS!"

No sound...and then they heard the sound of a back door.

"You take left!" Tony ordered and ran around the right side of the house. He caught a glimpse of someone running through the back gate.

Ziva made eye contact and he nodded. She veered off back to the front of the house. Tony kept up the chase.

"Turner! Stop! Federal agent!"

He caught another glimpse. Turner was fast, but not fast enough to lose him. Tony hoped Ziva got into position.

Just as he thought that he heard a high-pitched yelp. He laughed and redoubled his pace. Once he got around the corner, he slowed down. Turner was pinned to the ground by Ziva who had barely broken a sweat doing so.

"It would have been easier if you had just surrendered, Turner."

"Do you wish to read him his rights?" Ziva asked.

"Not particularly, but I will. Lucas Turner, you're under arrest for suspicion of kidnapping and for resisting arrest."

Ziva put on the handcuffs as Tony continued the spiel. They had someone at least.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Alvarez?"

Silence.

"Alvarez?"

"He's...not moving...sir."

"Understood."

"You know...sir...this is not exactly what I thought I'd be doing in the Navy."

"What do you mean?"

"I was afraid of dying in Iraq. I wasn't worried about it...here."

"You can die anywhere. What matters is how you face your death."

"Can I be afraid, sir?"

"Yes, you can."

"Are _you _afraid, sir?"

"Yes."

"It's been an honor...serving with you, sir."

"And you."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was something satisfying about a job well done. Granted, this job wasn't finished yet, but it was getting close and it would be a relief to get it done. It had been too long, a message too long delayed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where are they, Turner?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then, why did you run?"

"I...I don't like cops."

"Guilty people usually don't."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Really. Care to explain why you called all four of the missing men days before their disappearance?"

Turner looked nervously at the mirror. His eyes flicked back and forth.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's caught and he knows it," Tony said.

"He wants to run," Ziva agreed.

"That's because there's a record of contact with Theresa Janssen, and I'll bet he knew we'd find it," Tim said, joining them at the mirror.

"A connection?"

"Yeah. Gibbs got Linda to help me with the search authorizations. She's a whiz with those legal things, and she ran across a link."

"What is it?"

"Turner's record was for theft. Guess who he robbed."

"Janssen?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Crazy, huh?"

"What did he steal?"

"About $500,000 in jewelry from the house safe."

"That's...that's a lot of money."

"Yeah. Family heirlooms, apparently...but get this: She asked the judge for leniency during the sentencing."

"What?"

"Care to guess why she might have done that?"

Ziva looked at Turner. "This is a weak-minded little man who would be perfect as a...a stooge."

"What about Greg Manior?"

"He and Turner shared a cell for Manior's last year. He was in for assault."

"The way these things work out..." Tony said, shaking his head.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

So close...and yet so far. It was hard to wait, but that was the only way to succeed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"She'll kill me! She's crazy!"

"Crazy? You're safe in here from her. The one you should be worried about is me," Gibbs said, leaning in closer and closer. "I'm right next to you...and your one chance to avoid a life sentence is if we find the men you helped kidnap alive. If they're dead, that makes you an accessory to murder."

Turner shuddered. "They're...They're probably dead anyway. She probably sucked the blood out of them herself."

"What do you mean? Talk, Turner."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby bounced off the elevator at the balcony level and hurried over to Vance's office.

"Hey, Linda, is Director Vance in?"

"He is, but he's in a meeting," she said. "Can it wait?"

"Yeah. It can. Just let him know that I need to talk to him, okay?"

"Sure, Abby. You're...bouncing off the walls again."

"I'm always bouncing off the walls. I earned my Caf-Pow! today," Abby said giddily, and headed back down to her lair.

Linda watched her go with a tolerant smile.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I robbed her. I admitted to it! She came to me and said that if I'd promise to help her after I'd served my sentence, she'd ask for leniency. I didn't want to serve a lot of time! I had no idea that jewelry cost so much!"

"Then, why did you steal it?" Gibbs asked.

Turner clammed up, instantly.

"Fine. Did she tell you what she wanted?"

"No! If I'd known...I would have stayed in prison. She's crazy!"

"What did she want?"

"She said that the Navy was a drain on the country and that they needed to die...to serve their country and that I was going to help her."

"How did Manior get involved?"

"He was on the end of his own sentence when I went into prison and he asked if I had anything I could get into when I got out. I told him about Theresa. He said that if she was paying, he was interested. I brought him up when I called her. She hired him. He didn't seem to have a problem with what she was doing."

"Which was?"

"Sending a message to the nation that the Navy needed to go. It was staffed by weaklings, she said, people without honor and without purpose. These guys were the ones she picked. I don't know why! She didn't tell me...but..."

"But what?"

"But I saw what she did to them. She insisted on draining their blood herself...and painting it on the walls. Made me sick."

"You help me, Turner. We help you. If you cooperate you might avoid a life sentence."

Finally, Turner caved.

"She has some property out in Alexandria. Belongs to her family, I guess. I can give you the address. I don't know if that's where they are now."

"Do it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Your warrants," Linda said. "I got a rush on them for you."

"Thanks, Linda," Tim said. No one else spoke, all intent on getting to Alexandria in time.

...if they weren't already too late.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tony, McGee, around back. Ziva, with me," Gibbs said quietly. The house was in an unassuming neighborhood near Daingerfield Island. They pulled up with their jackets on so that there was no mistake what was happening to anyone who might be peeking out.

They headed in.

"In position?" Gibbs asked.

"_We're set,"_ Tony reported.

"Be ready."

He nodded at Ziva, counted down and then knocked.

"Theresa Janssen, federal agents!"

A moment of silence and then he kicked the door open. They came in with guns out and heard Tony and Tim doing the same from the back.

"Clear!" Ziva said.

"Clear!" came Tim's voice.

"Clear!" Tony reported.

Up the stairs, the silence was too oppressive for the house to be empty.

A gunshot drove them all to the ground.

"Janssen?" Gibbs called.

There was a laugh. "Is this the Navy's finest come to take me away? I don't think so!"

"Come on, Janssen. You surrender and you have a chance."

"I have enough of a chance already!" she called from up the stairs.

Then, there was the sound of something else.

"Hey. What do you think–?"

Another gunshot rang out...and then a body fell to the floor, followed by silence.

"Janssen?"

"She's dead!" came another voice. "You can come up! I'll surrender!"

"Throw the guns down to the landing," Gibbs ordered. "Come down with your hands over your head."

Another pause. Two guns were dropped unceremoniously onto the landing and then heavy footsteps.

Everyone raised their guns. Gibbs was in front, one foot on the stair. Ziva right beside him, Tony and Tim flanking the stairs.

A man came down. He was tall, heavy-set...and his hands were high over his head.

"Greg Manior?"

"Yeah."

"Where are they?"

He jerked his head up the stairs. There was something strange about his demeanor. His record was of a violent felon. Theresa Janssen had apparently been too much even for him.

"I killed Theresa."

"Ziva, cuff him. Tim, Tony."

"On it, Boss," Tony said. They holstered their weapons and ran up the stairs to a room at the back of a short hallway, pausing briefly to check on the body of Theresa Janssen. She was dead. They continued on. It was locked. There seemed to be no way that any light could even get inside.

"McGee," Tony said and knelt down.

Tim pulled out his gun, ready...just in case. Tony picked the lock and then opened the door. The waves of odor drove them back a step or two. There was no one in there that could possibly have a chance of hurting them.

The light from the hallway shone in on four motionless figures.

"Too late," Tim whispered.

...but no, one moved slightly.

"Hello?" a weak voice asked.

"NCIS," Tony said, finding his voice first.

"Call for an ambulance," Tim called back. "Fast!"

Tony stepped inside and knelt beside one of the bodies.

"Dead."

Tim took a deep breath and stepped inside as well. The air was foul. Hot and oppressive. He knelt beside another. There was no pulse. He was sitting at room temperature.

"This one, too."

It was hard to tell who had spoken, but the next man Tim reached moved.

"Lieutenant...Charles...Grayson... at your service, sir."

"Lt. Grayson. We're going to get you out of here."

"The...petty officer."

"Weak pulse," Tony said quietly. "Nonresponsive."

"The...other two are dead?"

"Yeah."

A nod.

Tim thought of searching Janssen's body for a key and lucked out. They were able to unlock all the chains before the ambulance arrived.

Lennie and Grayson were rushed away. Karl and Eduardo were left as they lay. Dead. Ducky and Jimmy arrived, both very somber as they assessed the bodies.

"We were too late," Tim said.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Timothy," Ducky said. "This poor man has been dead for more than a day."

"If only..."

"Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do except do them both all honor."

"All three," Gibbs corrected, coming in behind them.

"Three?" Tim asked, stricken.

"Petty Officer Leonard Pincock died en route to the hospital. They couldn't resuscitate him. Grayson is currently in a coma."

Tim shook his head.

"It's not fair," he said.

"Murder rarely is," Ducky answered.

"Death to the Navy," Jimmy said softly. "Did she really think that killing these guys would get rid of the Navy?"

"Some people live in a world that does not allow for logic, Mr. Palmer." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we should get them home. Cause of death will most likely be indirectly as a result of exsanguination, but I will let you know more after the autopsies."

They spent the rest of the day processing the sickening scene from the house. It was obvious that Janssen had intended for them all to die slowly. Her death had been much too quick.

By the time they returned to NCIS, all of them felt tired, depressed and worn out. Upon hearing Gibbs' report and after their debriefings, Vance sent them all home with orders to take the next day off.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby sighed and walked back into the lab. She was ready for the day to be over. It was always hard when a case didn't end happily. Hard for her and harder for the team that investigated the crime. She was surprised to see Tim sitting in her office, staring at the pieces of the briefcase.

"Hey, Tim, you're not supposed to be here still," Abby said, hugging him gently from behind.

"Hey, Abbs. I...I don't want to go home yet."

"And you thought the briefcase to end all briefcases would help?"

Tim laughed sadly. "Not necessarily, but I don't think I'm going to get much sleep tonight. Spending some time on a puzzle might help. You know me. I can tune out everything else."

"Oh, Tim."

"Three dead. Grayson might not make it. We failed, Abby. We're supposed to stop these things from happening...and we didn't."

"Grayson has a good chance of making it. His blood was used on the word _to_. It was shorter than the rest. She didn't use as much of his blood."

"Even so..."

"Even so nothing. You want me to stay?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I won't be staying for much longer, I don't think. I just want to try working on this for a bit."

"I tried to convince Vance that this wasn't even a real communique, that it's a fake."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well...partly out of desperation, but there's something else. I can't find any sign of what was actually _in_ the case."

"Abby, it was blown up."

"Yeah, but there should be _something_! So far, every test I've run on it only shows remnants of the case."

"I take it he wasn't convinced?"

"No. I think he might agree with me, but someone else is calling the shots on this one, I guess."

"Well, I'll stay here for an hour or so and then call it a night."

"Don't stay all night, Tim...and if you want to talk..."

"Thanks, Abbs."

"You can come over to my place even if you want."

Tim smiled. "Thanks. I just might."

Abby hugged him once more and then left Tim staring at the briefcase.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim left the lab and headed back up to his desk, intending to head home finally. It was past midnight, but he figured he could sleep in. Maybe he _would_ call Abby. She wouldn't mind. Speaking of calling...

"Crap. I left my phone," he muttered to himself. It was down on Abby's desk. He remembered taking it out of his pocket when Abby had called him about half an hour ago.

He got back on the elevator and rode down to the lab. When he stepped in, instead of the vacant lab he'd expected, there was someone there.

"Linda," he said with a smile. "What brings you down here so late? I figured everyone else was gone."

As soon as he spoke, though, he realized that something was wrong.

"Linda?"

She was standing over the briefcase, one small piece of it in her hand.

"Tim...I'm...really sorry that you came in here right now. You're not supposed to be at NCIS still. Honestly, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? What's going on?"

Faster than he would have expected possible, Linda spun around. Tim had just enough time to register the gun in her hand and try to get away from it before his world exploded into pain.

He didn't even hear the gun fire. He didn't hear anything except for the thudding of his heart in his ears.

...as his blood started to pour out of his body onto the floor of the lab.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He felt something hit against his side and heard a wooshing sound. The door to the office. It was trying to close. He could almost laugh...if he could breathe, that is.

"I really am sorry, Tim. Of all the people who could have walked in here...you and Abby were high on the list of people I didn't want to have to kill."

The words washed over him as he struggled for breath, as he tried to stop the bleeding. His jacket, his shirt. Bloody.

"I was actually almost hoping that I could come back to work tomorrow...but unfortunately, that's not going to happen. My whole timetable has been ruined. Would you believe that I'd been hoping and hoping that you'd solve this case; so you'd all leave at a decent hour?"

He'd never felt so much pain before. It was centered on the right side of his chest. He wasn't sure if it was the pain making it hard to breathe or if it was just that he'd been shot.

Then, she was leaning over him. He couldn't even get words out. He wasn't sure what words he would have _tried_ to say, but he was beyond speaking.

"It looks like you moved just fast enough, Tim. This doesn't have to be fatal. If someone should happen to come in here and see you, you might live...but it will have to be soon. I like you just enough to give you that chance. ...but not enough to let you call for help."

She straightened and moved out of his line of sight. He heard strangled sounds and realized belatedly that they were coming from his own mouth.

"This must be your phone. That's why you came back. Too bad I didn't notice it before. I would have been hidden from view and you wouldn't have known. I wouldn't have had to shoot you."

There was a sudden crack which startled him.

"Good luck, Tim. I have to admit that part of me hopes you do make it. ...but not soon enough to stop me. I have a delivery to make. It's years late, but at least you won't have it."

She stepped over him, carefully avoiding the spreading blood on the floor as Tim tried to make himself do something, but he couldn't seem to move, nor even to think beyond his approaching death.

Linda had shot him and now she had left him to die.

He knew he should be trying to get up, trying to get help...trying to _do_ something, but he couldn't. The only thing he could do was try to keep some portion of his blood inside his body even as his heart continued to pump it out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ah, poor lad," Ducky said, taking one last look at the young petty officer before pushing him into the drawer and closing it. "Such a tragedy to be lost at such a young age. I hope that you were able to find some peace before your untimely death." He sighed. "But what peace is there to be found in such a senseless death?"

He gathered his things and then rode the elevator up to the bullpen. He had stayed late when the young petty officer's body had arrived, wanting to make sure that he was well-situated. It was against his nature to allow someone so young to be left unattended.

As he walked across the bullpen, he noticed that Tim's bag was still there and his lamp on.

"Oh, Timothy," he said softly, remembering how devastated he had been at the realization that they had been too late...as they all had been truth be told. "You really should go home, lad."

He didn't seem to be around, however, and Ducky wondered where he might be at this late hour...and then he smiled. Where else would Tim be? He headed back to the elevator and rode it down to the lab. After the day they'd all had, Tim might appreciate a sympathetic ear.

It was quiet and the lights were off. He almost decided to go back, but then he noticed that the door to Abby's office whooshed and then stopped halfway before retracting again. That was strange, out of place. He stepped further into the lab. ...and he saw that there was...an obstruction on the floor.

"Timothy!"

The strangled attempts to breathe finally reached his ears, the whimpers of pain. The blood on the floor...and the awkward crumpled heap that was Timothy McGee seared themselves onto his retinas. A scene he probably would never forget. He rushed over and knelt beside him.

One of Tim's bloody hands reached out for Ducky. His mouth moved but no intelligible sound emerged.

"Oh, Timothy. Don't try to speak." Ducky pulled open Tim's jacket and shirt and saw the hole from a single round. Then, he leaned over and lifted Tim slightly off the ground and saw the spreading stain on his back. Through and through.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Dialing 911 had never seemed so difficult. It was expected that agents ran risks when out in the field...but NCIS was supposed to be safe. With the exception of Ari Haswari, they hadn't ever been in danger in the building. Who could have gotten in? Why?

He spoke quickly, reporting the injury, the location. Then, he disconnected and dialed for security to tell them what had happened. All the while, he could feel Tim's life blood seeping between his fingers. He thought about running for his doctor's bag in Autopsy, but that would take a lot of time that he didn't want to take...time that Tim couldn't afford to lose. It wasn't as though he could do very much for Tim with as serious as the injury was. As long as he heard those struggles for air, he would stay there, doing what he could until someone arrived who could do more.

"Du...cky..." Tim opened his eyes and looked around, trying to find Ducky. It took a few seconds for his eyes to move onto Ducky's face. He was afraid.

"Shush, Timothy. Just wait."

Tim shook his head. "No...Lin...da...she..." For a horrible moment, Tim looked as though his breath was giving out. Then, another hard-won inhalation, sticky-sounding. "...shot...me..."

"Linda?" Ducky repeated in shock. "Director Vance's assistant?"

A nod. No more. Ducky was bursting now with questions about why and how...but he held them inside. Trying to get more answers out of Tim would more than likely deprive him of what little breath he had. If his lung had not completely collapsed already, it would soon enough.

The doors to the lab opened. Ducky looked up, hoping it was the paramedics arriving.

It was Vance. "Dr. Mallard, I was leaving the building when..." His voice trailed off to nothing as he saw what was going on. "What can I do?"

Ducky looked down at Tim again. His eyes had closed, respiration getting weaker.

"Pray," he said softly.

He was surprised when Vance knelt beside him, pulling off his own jacket.

"It looks like he's bleeding down there as well," he said, pointing to Tim's back.

Ducky nodded. Without urging, Vance lifted Tim up just long enough to press his jacket against the exit wound. At Ducky's glance, he shrugged.

"I've been meaning to buy a new jacket anyway."

Ducky smiled, but he was again surprised when Tim spoke again.

"Glad...I could...help."

"Just focus on breathing, McGee," Vance said.

"She...got..a..." Tim stopped. His breathing continued, but his words didn't. His hand, which had already left a bloody print on Ducky's arm, spasmed and then went limp. Tim seemed to collapse in on himself.

"Oh, no you don't, Timothy," Ducky said. "Continue to apply pressure to his wound," he ordered and began administering CPR.

Tim had not responded by the time the EMTs arrived. They waited only long enough to insert a chest tube, but by that time, Tim was far gone and even the relieved pressure wasn't enough to save him. All that could was getting him to a hospital.

Ducky and Vance watched them leave, Tim strapped to the gurney. Then, they were left alone in Abby's lab, blood everywhere, including on them. It was a sudden calm after the fear, the tension, the horrible anxiety of trying to keep Tim alive. The fear was still present but without the onus being on them...there was a kind of calm.

"What happened, Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky shook his head. "He said that Linda shot him."

"Linda Kionen? My assistant?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He could not tell me. Do I have your permission to go to the hospital? I will not be of much use here...nor there, but I can at least serve as a messenger. I assume that you will want your MCRT to investigate?"

Vance looked down at the floor where Tim had lay. He laughed.

"Do you honestly think Gibbs would allow anyone else to investigate it?"

Ducky smiled as well.

"Go ahead. I'd like to know myself how he's doing. I'll pass the message to them...along with a BOLO for...Linda. She was vetted. She had to be to qualify as my assistant."

"If vetting was perfect, nothing would ever happen," Ducky said. He looked at himself. "I'll put on a clean shirt before I leave."

Vance nodded silently, staring at the floor and then into the lab.

"She must have been in the office," he said softly.

Ducky realized that he'd been tuned out. Quickly, he left the lab, intent on getting to the hospital.

He didn't envy Vance the task of telling Tim's friends and family what had happened.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After calling Gibbs and giving him the unenviable task of letting everyone else know what had happened, Vance called for security to do a sweep of the building, although he had no real thought that Linda would still be there. He had them do a sweep of the Yard, looking for any sign of her, of her car. Then, he went and grabbed a processing kit and began to document the scene.

Gibbs got there first.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Agent McGee was apparently shot by Linda Kionen, my assistant," Vance said.

"You told me that already."

"Then, why did you ask again?"

"I was hoping for some details."

"Then, you should have _asked_ for details," Vance said, but relented. "Ducky found him. He'd been shot in the chest, on the right. Through and through. I haven't had time to search for a bullet yet. He was on his back, lying in the doorway when I arrived. He managed to tell Ducky that it was Linda who shot him, but he couldn't say why."

"On his back facing which way?" Gibbs asked.

"As if he'd been walking into the office," Vance said, seeing where Gibbs was going. "That means that Linda must have been in there." He looked over. There was nothing in the office worth stealing except...

"Abby had been working on reassembling the briefcase in there," Gibbs said.

Vance stood up and walked into the office. He looked at the carefully laid out pieces, along with the partially assembled case itself.

"So...did she take something from there or did McGee interrupt her?"

"Abby will know," Gibbs said. "McGee probably would, too."

"I can get Lovitz on this if you want to go to the hospital."

"No. We'll do it. There's nothing we'll be able to do over there. Here, we can catch his...attacker."

The elevator opened and Tony came in.

"Is McGee all right?" he asked. No jokes. Only worry. His eyes tracked in on the blood stain on the floor. "He's...He won't die from this, right? Boss?"

"No. He won't."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky sat in the waiting room, one step short of wringing his hands in anxiety. Finally, he couldn't bear the waiting any longer and he walked over to the nurse's station.

"Excuse me, my dear...Alissa...I was wondering if you could possibly find out what is happening to a friend of mine."

Alissa smiled. "I can try, sir. Who is it?"

"An agent. Timothy McGee. He was shot."

"Oh...that surgery was still going on when I last checked, but I can see if there's been any progress."

"I would appreciate it. Thank you."

"Of course. Just have a seat. I'll let you know."

Ducky nodded and sat down again. It was hard to wait. He maintained a calm exterior, but his mind was seething with fear. Had Tim lost too much blood? Was he already dead? If he survived would he face permanent disability? He tried to remain calm, but he wished that there was someone else with him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How long do we have to stay here, Gibbs?" Abby asked, sniffling. "When can we go and see how Tim is doing?"

"When we get everything done here. Can you see what she might have taken?"

Abby sniffed again and wiped at her eyes. "I...I don't know. It wasn't much...if she did. It looks like everything's here."

"Ms. Sciuto," Vance said kindly, "I know you want to be with Agent McGee right now, but we really need to know _why_ he was shot. Are you sure that nothing is missing?"

"I...I don't know! ...but...I'll...." She took a deep breath. "I'll find out, Director Vance."

"I will help you, Abby," Ziva said and sat down beside her. "We will find out if any piece is missing."

"DiNozzo, let's head over to Linda Kionen's apartment."

"Yeah, Boss. Right." Tony's eyes kept wandering over to where Tim had lay.

"Tony," Gibbs said. "Let's go."

"On your six, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Images swirled around and around in his head, laced with pain, fear and confusion. He tried to hold on to the various thoughts, the emotions, the essence of what was going on, but they kept slipping away, out of his grasp...vanishing into the strangely-matte blackness all around him.

Words penetrated the blackness but no images.

"_...seems to be holding..."_

He had the sense that they were about him, but he didn't know for sure.

"_Carefully. ...have to... ...can't let..."_

He figured he was still alive, but beyond that, he had no idea.

"_...reconstruct... ...maintain negative..."_

Linda! She was important somehow. Why?

"_...increase... ...heart rate..."_

Linda vanished along with everything else he had known.

"_...another unit..."_

The last thing he saw before the blackness took over his mind was a spinning spool of numbers.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Linda sat calmly on a bench in Rock Creek Park. Her contact should arrive in the next five minutes, and she would be glad to get the job done and move on. Her cover was probably blown here in any case. Whether Tim lived or died, it would only take so long to realize that there was someone unaccounted for. Definitely time to move on.

This wouldn't have happened at all if the NSA hadn't suddenly become aware of their little cell here in DC. It had been three years that she'd been operating out of the capital of the United States without any problem. It had taken three weeks to spoil it all. She sighed. Moving on sounded good in more ways than one.

Movement caught her eye and she tensed, gun at the ready. Then, she relaxed when she saw her contact. He sat down beside her.

"Any problems?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I was forced to shoot an agent." Linda felt no need to disclose the fact that she may not have actually killed said agent.

"Why?"

"He walked in right as I was retrieving our property. I didn't realize he was still in the building. My identity is ruined here."

"You got it?"

"Yes."

He held out a hand. Linda slipped the small piece of the briefcase to him.

"Do they know the significance yet?"

"No...but if they discover just what was stolen they may realize. They're not fools."

"If that's the case, you know what comes next."

"I'm out?"

"Unless you can give us a good reason to keep you."

"I could be moved."

"With them searching for you as either a witness or a suspect? Not likely. You would have to change your entire appearance before that was even a possibility."

"So?"

"So you take your chances. Either they find you or we do."

"And if _you_ do?"

"You know what will happen."

"Does this meeting count?"

"No. I must go back and make my report. You will have the same opportunity as any other would."

"Will I be given the chance to show evidence of my viability before I'm killed?"

"Of course...should you choose to go that route, you will get a fair hearing."

"Very well." Linda stood up and started to walk away. Then, she paused, turned around.

...and fired three times. This time, she hit her target. Carefully, she walked back to the bench.

"A fair hearing? Not likely," she whispered and took the piece from the man's now-limp fingers. "_Now_, I'll get my hearing because I have what they want."

Then, she walked away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance looked over his shoulder. Abby and Ziva were still bent over the pieces of the briefcase, trying to determine what, if anything, had been taken. He himself was utilizing agent skills he hadn't used in years and searching for the bullet which had (hopefully) only almost killed Tim. The problem was that they had so little to go by other than a guesstimate about the angle the bullet had traveled. Abby could probably create a simulation that would do it for them, and while Vance knew he could probably do it as well, given time, that time would more than likely be better used actually looking. It had to be in the lab somewhere.

...it had been well over an hour since he'd started looking, but there had to be a bullet lodged in something...somewhere...

His gloved fingers ran over a gouge in the table.

Aha!

Vance knelt down and eyeballed it. There was a bullet in there. Carefully, with a pair of tweezers, he worked the slug out of the table.

"Thought you could hide, did you? Gotcha, you little..." he muttered and then caught himself, looking back toward the office. Ziva and Abby did _not_ need to be acquainted with his penchant for talking to inanimate objects.

He dropped the slug into a bag and signed it. Even if the crime scene _was_ the lab, protocols should be followed. Cutting corners was how evidence got lost.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Kionen didn't live very large, Boss," Tony said as they walked through the small apartment.

"I guess she didn't plan on staying for very long."

"Yeah...guess not."

There wasn't much to look through. The apartment held clothes, food...and little else. No personal touches. No sign of recent use.

"Boss, I found a weapon here!" Tony called from the kitchen. "Right next to the knives and spoons. Interesting location."

"Got another in the bedroom," Gibbs called back.

"Yikes. I guess she didn't want to be caught unawares."

"Guess not."

"There's got to be _something_ here," Tony said. "Even if she didn't want to draw attention to herself...if she was willing to kill McGee to get whatever it was she got, then she must have something to indicate what is going on."

"Not necessarily. If this is only a stopover, then she could keep information anywhere."

Tony nodded and went back to searching. After a few more minutes, he stopped.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"Nevermind."

Gibbs came out of the bedroom and looked at Tony.

"McGee's going to make it."

"Sometimes they don't, Boss. Look at those sailors we found today. Couldn't save them."

"Doesn't mean that McGee won't make it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"There are so many pieces, Ziva!" Abby said in frustration. "If she wanted something, why can't we tell what she took?"

"Maybe she did not have time to take anything."

"She shot Tim! She could have grabbed it without waiting."

"Perhaps she herself had only just gone inside and taking the entire briefcase would take too long. It is possible."

"Yeah...but it doesn't seem right."

"No. It does not." Ziva looked at the pieces and something began to drum against her skull, trying to get her attention.

"It could take centuries to figure this out," Abby said.

"Wait. I think we are missing something obvious, Abby."

"What?"

"I am not sure, but there _is_ a piece missing. We just are overlooking it. I look at this and I do not see the whole briefcase."

Abby stared for a few seconds.

"You're right. Something looks wrong...but I can't figure out what it is."

They both heard the phone ring from behind them and turned around. Vance answered and began to talk. His expression was serious. Abby looked at Ziva and then jumped up to find out what was going on.

"Director Vance, is it about Tim?"

He held up his hand, nodding.

"Yes, Dr. Mallard. Thank you. Yes, I understand. Keep us informed." He hung up.

"Well?" Ziva asked.

"That was Dr. Mallard from the hospital...he had a report on Agent McGee."

"What?" Abby asked. "Is Tim okay?"


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Linda walked into the bank, her stride unhurried, her expression calm. She had an appearance that didn't draw attention in the normal course of things, and she was well enough known here to cause no concern.

"How can I help you, ma'am?"

"I'd like access to my safe deposit box, please."

"Of course. I'll need some ID and your key."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance allowed himself a relieved smile. "Agent McGee made it through the surgery. They have him in recovery right now and then he'll be moved to the ICU. They're listing him as in critical condition right now but Dr. Mallard said that they anticipate he'll stabilize within the next few hours."

Abby sighed with relief and sank down onto a chair.

"That is wonderful to hear, Director," Ziva said.

"That doesn't mean we can stop working, however," he said. "I found the bullet, Ms. Sciuto, if you would be so good as to work on that. Agent David, would you continue searching for what might be missing? I need to report on this to the powers that be and let them know about a possible leak in their organizations."

"A leak?" Abby asked.

"It can't be a coincidence that I hired Linda Kionen as my assistant approximately three weeks before the request came to revisit that briefcase and whatever secrets it may hold. That means that someone knew. Someone _inside_ relayed the information. They're going to have to find out who and when."

"Does that mean they will take over the case when we find Linda Kionen?" Ziva asked, her voice fierce.

"They'll have a fight on their hands if they try, Agent David," Vance said. "Back to work."

He began to leave and then looked back at Abby.

"Why don't you two call Gibbs and DiNozzo. I'm sure they'll want to know as well."

Abby smiled. "Yes, Director Vance!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The ringing phone brought Tony's head up from where he'd been searching through the kitchen cupboards.

"Gibbs."

Tony almost dropped the pot in his hands as he listened...but he knew what the call must be about when an uncharacteristic smile crossed Gibbs' face.

"Thanks, Abby. Yes. We'll...Yeah. No. Thanks." He hung up.

"McGee?"

"He made it through surgery," Gibbs said.

"Can we go?"

"Not yet. We'll finish up here and meet up with Abby and Ziva."

"What about McGee's family?"

"We'll call when we get to the hospital."

"I'm pretty much finished here," Tony said, hoping that would be enough. "We're not going to find anything, Boss."

"If you're only pretty much finished, you're not finished. We don't leave until the job is done, DiNozzo. No way is any part of this case going to be slipshod."

"Yeah, Boss. I got you."

He knelt down again and continued his perusal of the pots and pans.

"Besides, it's better to be working than waiting," Gibbs said quietly.

Tony wasn't sure he agreed, but he could at least see Gibbs' point.

All the same, it took them another hour to finish the apartment. Then, back to NCIS to process everything and help every work through the various pieces. By that time, it was after nine in the morning and everyone knew that Tim had been shot. They had to cordon off the lab until everything was finished. Ziva was still staring at the briefcase trying to figure out what was going on. They were running out of steam, however. The initial adrenaline rush caused by fear and anxiety was wearing off and, even in their eagerness to see that Tim was okay...or that he _would_ be okay...they were starting to feel tired.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was conducted into the ICU where he sat down beside Tim's still form. They had told him that Tim might wake up or not. If he did wake up, it wouldn't be for long as they had him on strong medication. Even if he did wake up...

_Click....whrrr..._

The mechanical ventilator kept up a regular rhythm. Ducky tried to appreciate that it was possible that such a machine could keep a good man alive.

_Click...whrrr..._

But he hated what it represented. Until Tim awakened, there was no way of knowing what to expect, at least as far as his mental status was concerned. He had lost a large volume of blood. He had been deprived of oxygen.

He had been shot by someone he trusted.

It was not right. It was not fair. It was unjust.

...but it was life.

"Oh, Timothy. This is just not how I expected to be spending my night...my morning. I dare say, it's not how _you_ expected to be spending your free time either."

_Click...whrrr..._

"It's up to you, lad. You have to say the word. The doctors have done what they could. Now, you have to make the next move. We will have to wait...however difficult that may be."

Ducky took Tim's hand and held it gently. He didn't know how long he sat there, but after a length of time, he felt a weak squeeze.

"Timothy?"

Tim's eyes fluttered open and fastened on Ducky's face. His expression was one of drugged confusion.

_Click...whrrr..._

His mouth moved.

"No, Timothy. Don't try to speak. You're on a ventilator."

It didn't appear that any of that was getting through. Tim's mouth moved again.

"You can't speak right now, Timothy. Do you hear me?"

_Click...whrrr..._

Tim still just stared until slowly, ever so slowly, one hand lifted slightly, slid along his chest and touched the place where the bullet had penetrated.

"Yes, Timothy. You were shot. You've been in surgery. You're going to be fine."

Tim's eyes closed and the weak pressure slackened. Ducky was worried at first, but the monitors continued their slow beeps and parps. Tim was simply unconscious again. How much did he remember? Getting shot at least. How much more than that was another question entirely.

...and only Tim could answer it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right. That's enough. Go on...and you'd probably better let someone drive you," Vance said.

"I'm still awake, Director!" Abby asserted.

Vance sighed. "I'll get my driver to take you to the hospital and then back here. Get some sleep when you can. It's not required that you knock yourselves out to get the job done."

"Go on," Gibbs said to the others.

"My car is waiting out front. You can pick up your things."

"Thanks, Director," Tony said, trying not to yawn.

"Are you coming?" Abby asked.

"Some of us have jobs to do, Ms. Sciuto."

"Go," Gibbs said. "I'll catch up."

The others walked out, leaving Gibbs and Vance alone in the lab.

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

"Stonewalled so far," Vance said. "There's nothing that they're admitting to, although I think I've got the NSA spooked."

"The NSA?"

"Yep. Turns out that's where the request originated."

"Why are they getting us to do their dirty work?"

"Policy, I'd assume," Vance said. "They're worried, though."

"Are they taking the case?"

"Well, the NSA can't. I wouldn't put it past the FBI to get involved, though, given a chance."

"What about our jurisdiction?"

"Do you want me fight to keep the case if it comes to that?"

"I don't want someone else trying to cover up what happened to McGee."

"You realize that we're unlikely to maintain custody of Linda Kionen even if we catch her, don't you?"

Gibbs glared.

"Stare all you'd like, but I don't have the clout to keep a suspected traitor in NCIS custody when she could be wanted by so many other groups," Vance said and pointed to the elevator. "Go check on your man. That's more important than all this."

Gibbs nodded and walked out. After he was gone, Vance sighed and stared back at the bloodstain on the floor. No matter how often he was confronted with death, he couldn't get used to it.

His phone rang.

"Vance."

It was Lovitz. What he said propelled Vance out of the lab and up to the bullpen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How is he, Ducky?"

"Is he awake?"

"Have you spoken to him?"

Ducky raised his hands quickly to forestall more questions.

"He woke briefly. He is still in the ICU and while I spoke to him, he could not reciprocate. They are allowing visitors, but not everyone at once. I suggest that we try and tag-team our visits."

"Who first?" Tony asked.

"I believe it is customary for ladies to go first," Ducky said and gestured gallantly.

Abby grinned and kissed Ducky on the cheek. "You're right, Ducky. It is customary."

She grabbed Ziva by the arm and dragged her down the hall before Tony could even protest.

They were admitted to the ICU and sat down quietly beside Tim's bed.

"Tim, we've been trying to figure out what Linda took from the briefcase," Abby said. "You should wake up and tell us what you saw."

_Click...whrrr..._

Ziva smiled. "Do you really think that will work, Abby?"

"Why not? Tim's nothing if not responsible."

"He would have to hear you."

"He can." Abby took Tim's hand. "You hear me, Tim? You need to wake up and talk to us."

"He will not be _able_ to talk, Abby. He is on a ventilator."

"Come on, Ziva! You've got to think positive!"

"-ly.

"What?"

"Positive_ly_. It is an adverb."

_Click...whrrr..._

Abby was about to make a snide retort but then she felt Tim's hand move.

"Tim!"

His eyes opened again.

"Did you hear me?"

Tim smiled weakly.

"Do you know what Linda took?"

His face reflected only confusion.

"Do you remember _anything_?"

He shook his head.

"Do you remember _us_?"

There was a dangerous pause but then he smiled and squeezed her hand.

"Don't _do_ that, Tim! You had me scared!"

_Click...whrrr..._

"McGee, do you remember that Linda shot you?"

His eyes widened and his heart monitor sped up briefly.

"Do you remember?"

_Click...whrrr..._

"She was trying to take something from the briefcase. Did you see if she succeeded?"

His mouth moved but then his eyes fluttered closed once more.

"Tim? Tim?"

"He is asleep again, Abby. Leave him."

...but no, Tim's eyes opened again. He blinked a few times, staring at the ceiling. Then, he winced in pain and the heart monitor began to beep irregularly.

"Tim?"

"Excuse me!" Ziva said, gesturing quickly.

A nurse came over, looked at his vitals and essentially shoved Ziva and Abby out of the room.

"Oh, no," Abby whispered.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Where is she?" Vance said.

"BOLO put her at Dupont Circle," Lovitz said, bringing up the notification.

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago," Lara said. "We've been checking it as often as we can."

He nodded.

"You want to be in on this, Director?"

There was nothing Vance would like more...but this time, he let reason dictate and he shook his head reluctantly.

"No. As much as I would like to, I'd better stay behind. Let me know when you get her here; I'll need to conduct the interrogation."

"Yes, Director. What about the FBI?"

"What about them?"

Lovitz smiled. "Understood, sir. Miller, Weaver, Saunders, let's go."

"Don't lose her, Agent Lovitz."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Vance nodded and watched them go. He then headed up to his own office, automatically pausing at Linda's desk and then realizing that he would have to find a new assistant. Again. He sighed.

"So...what's on tap for today, Assistant to the Director Vance?" he asked.

...and then walked around the desk and sat down, searching through the maze of programs to see what was on his own schedule.

"Well, Director Vance, it looks as though you're going to have to fight with every major agency in the District, justify the failure to catch Linda Kionen's duplicity, and try to keep your job. That's a pretty full docket. Do you think you can handle it?"

He sighed, closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples.

"Well...who is on my side at the moment?"

"Leon, talking to yourself is _not_ a good sign."

"Jackie!" Vance stood up quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing what kept my husband from coming home last night."

"I called."

Jackie pursed her lips. "I know you called. You always do...when you can, but you managed to say nothing about when you might be able to get back to your family, even briefly."

"Not for the foreseeable future, I'm afraid."

"Is Agent McGee going to be all right?"

"I don't know. All I can tell you is that he was alive last I heard."

"Sounds like you're having a rough day."

"Nothing compared to his...and it's only just started."

"Well...then, you need to take a break."

Vance smiled and walked around the desk. Jackie met him halfway and put her arms around his waist.

"I need more than a break...but I can't, Jackie. I don't have the time."

"Yes, you do. You're going to _make_ the time and have breakfast with your wife. You may be at the beck and call of everyone in DC, but spousal authority trumps everyone. ...even the President."

Vance knew when to give in. ...which was always when Jackie was involved.

"Okay. Let me call someone from...oh, I don't know, Legal to come down and man the desk for a while. Then, I can give you half an hour."

"Forty-five minutes," Jackie countered.

"All right. All right. Forty-five minutes."

It didn't take long to get someone at Linda's desk manning the phones, making sure that messages were taken. Then, Vance allowed himself to be led out of NCIS and to the food court. It wouldn't be exciting, but he had to admit that spending some time with his wife was better than trying to talk to the FBI or NSA.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Linda stepped out of the bank, intent on getting to her other apartment, someplace she could hole up for awhile...until she figured out just what her next move would be. Killing her contact didn't have to mean anything. She smiled to herself at the thought. It most likely meant quite a bit to the man she'd killed, but his employers could be persuaded of her value.

_As long as I have the time to prove it,_ she amended.

Then, she paused for just a moment. She thought she had seen someone. Slowly, she turned, scanning the crowd without appearing to do so. She saw no one...but she wasn't convinced that she hadn't before.

Linda increased her pace slightly, headed for the Metro, striding across Dupont Circle toward the station. She had always trusted her intuition. Just as she had expected Tim to be a good person and not suspicious of her presence, she now expected there to be someone following her. Was it NCIS or her former employers? That she didn't know. At this point, even with what she'd done, she'd prefer NCIS. They still had the law.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was hugging Gibbs tightly while Ziva sat close to Ducky. It was hard to accept the need to wait again. Wait for news. It took an hour or more for the doctors to come out again...but eventually the did.

"What happened?" Abby asked. "Is Tim okay?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. He is now."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"He suffered from a tension pneumothorax. In layman's terms, his lung collapsed again. We were able to treat it in time."

"How did it happen?" Ziva asked.

"Is it our fault? Did we excite him too much?" Abby asked.

"I doubt you had anything to do with it. We found a clot in his chest tube. It's serious and we'll be monitoring to make sure it doesn't happen again. He'll remain in the ICU for a few days most likely."

"Will he wake up?"

"More than likely. We're going to be monitoring him to see if we can start weaning him off the ventilator. While he's on it, he'll be sedated to keep him from fighting ventilation; so even if he wakes up, he won't be fully aware. Just talk to him and let him know you're there."

"Can we see him now?"

"Yes. Has his family been notified?"

Gibbs nodded. "They're making arrangements to come as soon as they can."

"Good. For now, feel free to visit."

Tony and Gibbs went back to the ICU and sat down beside Tim's bed. He was quiet with only the machines around him making any noise.

"I would never have thought Linda could do this. I mean...she's scary if you screw around with office supplies, but...shooting McGee?" Tony shook his head. "They looked like they were becoming friends."

"She was good enough to get in NCIS. She could pretend to befriend us, Tony," Gibbs said.

"We'll find her."

"Yes. We will."

_Click...whrrr..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You see her, Geri?" Lara asked softly.

"Got her."

"Adam?"

"Ready."

Linda was walking across to the Metro station. They didn't want to take her in there. Even out here it was too uncontrolled, but it was better than down in the Metro. She had already proved that she was willing to kill.

"On my mark," Lovitz said. "Now!"

"Linda Kionen! Federal agents!" Lara shouted and ran forward, gun out.

Linda stopped and turned. She showed no real surprise. She was clearly evaluating her chances. Her gaze swept the area and Lara watched as she picked out Lovitz, Geri and Adam all converging on her. She actually smiled and then looked toward the station entrance.

"Don't move! You're under arrest!" Geri said.

Instead of looking frightened, Linda just sighed and relaxed her stance.

"He must have survived. You moved faster than I expected."

"Any weapons?" Lara asked.

"Yes."

"Hands in the air," Lovitz ordered. "Miller."

Geri and Adam kept their guns trained on Linda as Lara searched her...and came up with a gun with a silencer in her purse, a knife at her waist and a backup weapon strapped to her ankle.

"You must be related to Ziva."

Linda laughed. "Our former occupations aren't too different. Hers was simply legitimate while mine was not."

"Former?"

"Aren't you going to read me my rights first?"

"We won't be conducting the interrogation anyway."

"I thought not. If you've already caught up with me, people will be lined up for the chance."

"Come on, Linda. You're under arrest. We'll start with attempted murder of an NCIS agent and possible treason."

"There will be a lot more to add to the list, I assure you." Obligingly, Linda put her hands behind her back and allowed herself to be cuffed.

"Why so helpful?"

"It's probably safer to be with you than out here," she said. "My former employers won't be too happy...particularly when you find out you can charge me with murder as well."

"Murder?"

"Check with MPD," Linda said.

Lovitz exchanged looks with Geri and nodded. Their job was to bring her in. That was what mattered for now. Vance would be dealing with all this.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Spinning wheels of numbers, meaning nothing...and yet meaning everything. He tried to follow the tendril of thought to the meaning at the end...but he couldn't. It swirled away into the mists of confusion.

He knew his name. He was pretty sure of that much.

_Click...whrrr..._

He heard noises and tried to focus on them. They seemed to lead his mind somewhere...away from the blackness and toward light. That wasn't a bad thing. The black wasn't exciting.

_Click...whrrr..._

_When did that start to matter?_ he wondered. He felt as though the blackness had been there forever. It stretched out behind him with sparks of light behind, but the light in front of him was getting closer.

Tim opened his eyes, not sure what to expect. He had a feeling that the last time he had opened his eyes something bad had happened. ...and the time before that hadn't been all the great either.

"Timothy?"

Moving his eyes required some effort, but Tim did so, aware of something in his throat...but also aware that he could breathe...or rather that he was being _forced_ to breathe. However, he didn't feel a need to fight it at the moment. He was seeing the light around him but it was through a fuzzy piece of gauze or something because nothing was really clear, including his own brain.

He tried to speak but, for some odd reason, he couldn't make his voice function. He wondered if it had anything to do with that thing in his throat.

"Don't try to talk, Timothy. Remember? You're on a ventilator."

Tim looked at...

_Ducky!_

Yes, at Ducky. A ventilator. Yes, he knew that word. It conjured up unpleasant images, but he did know what it was. It helped a person breathe. He apparently was that person.

_Click...whrrr..._

That sound. That could be the ventilator.

"We're all very relieved that you're all right, Timothy."

All right. He hadn't been. That's right. He'd had something go wrong. What was it?

A vision right over his head. His eyes moved up.

"_Good luck, Tim. I have to admit that part of me hopes you do make it. ...but not soon enough to stop me. I have a delivery to make. It's years late, but at least you won't have it."_

Linda! Even though the gauze didn't go away, Tim remembered something...numbers. Spinning numbers!

"Calm down, Timothy! It's all right!"

Calm? Wasn't he already calm? ...no, Tim thought about it and decided that he wasn't. He needed to tell them about what had happened. They needed to know. They needed to stop her.

"You must stay still, Timothy!"

The numbers...Linda. Tim tried to communicate that to Ducky, even as doctors came and spoke to him.

Desperate, Tim weakly grabbed for Ducky's arm, for his watch...the numbers on his watch.

"Wait!" Ducky said. "What is it, Timothy? No! You can't speak. Just stay calm. What about my arm?"

Tim weakly touched the watch.

"My watch?"

Tim suddenly became very tired, the gauze thickened. More layers, he supposed. He pointed to the numbers on the watch. The wheel of numbers. It was the best he could do when his head was stuffed with gauze and his throat filled with a tube.

"All right, Timothy. I'll tell Gibbs. Just rest. Rest."

Tim couldn't help but be a little skeptical that Ducky had been convinced, but the tiredness spread and made even his limbs feel heavy. His hand felt like it weighed a ton. It slid down from Ducky's arm to the bed. The gauze became blackness again.

Wheels of numbers dragged him back into the nothingness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What was all that?"

Ducky shook his head. "I wish I knew. Timothy couldn't tell me and I'm not sure I understand at all. I only know that he found it important to point at my watch, at the numbers. I don't know why."

He looked at the now-silent figure. That Tim had felt he was relaying important information was clear. What that information was...was it even genuine...who knew with Tim under sedation, suffering from who knew what kind of permanent damage from the blood loss and oxygen deprivation.

"I'll relay what he said. I just hope that it isn't a product of his mind."

The doctor nodded.

"It could be. We can't be sure until he's stable enough to remove from the ventilator."

Ducky walked out of the ICU, hoping that the message he was about to give wouldn't result in wasted time.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Vance knew he'd have to inform his sister agencies about Linda, but he was determined to do the first interrogation himself. They would have their own questions. He wanted to understand the assault on one of his agents. That took precedence over espionage or whatever she had done. For now.

Other people deserved to be here as well. Linda might disappear after a day or two. He knew that as well as anyone did. They'd get what they could first.

"You found her?"

Vance turned. "Yes, Agent DiNozzo. Caught her at Dupont Circle...don't know what she was doing there, though. Lovitz is talking with Metro. Weaver, Saunders and Miller are canvassing, trying to find out where she went."

"Why Metro?" Ziva asked.

"She apparently killed someone after leaving NCIS."

They all looked through the window into Interrogation. Linda was sitting calmly at the table, looking, if anything, slightly bored. She didn't seem worried in the slightest...and her demeanor hadn't changed at all from the efficient and friendly assistant they had thought she was.

"Any trouble with the arrest?" Gibbs asked.

"Lovitz said no. Said that she just looked at them, gauged her chances and surrendered. She knew exactly what she was doing."

Gibbs looked at her again.

"You want to be in on the questioning?" Vance asked.

Gibbs looked as though he was going to nod but his phone rang. "No. Not yet. You go first."

"Don't mind if I do," Vance said and headed out of Observation.

"Hello, Director Vance," Linda said pleasantly. "Rather a different setting for us, isn't it."

"You don't seem very worried, Linda."

"Oh, I'm not."

"You've admitted to murder and attempted murder of a federal agent."

Linda smiled. "Yes. I'm guessing you've checked with Metro and discovered the man in Rock Creek Park? ...that's a dangerous place to hang out at night."

"So...what makes you so confident?"

"The reason I committed those crimes. Oh, I know I'm in your hands right now, and if I could depend on staying in your hands, I might worry a little about going to prison, but let me see if I can paint an accurate picture of the near future." Linda straightened slightly and then leaned forward. "You're going to keep a hold of me for as long as you can, but in a couple of days, maybe three, at the outside, someone from either the CIA, the NSA or the FBI is going to show up and demand that custody be transferred to them. You'll protest and they'll go over your head, all the way, if necessary. They'll win. You'll hand me over and that will be that."

"You think you'll go free?"

Linda laughed. "Absolutely not, but I know...as well as you do, that what I can tell them means I won't be languishing in a jail cell. They'll be pumping me for every scrap of information I can tell them...and I can tell an awful lot."

"About what?"

"Oh...I think I'll keep my secrets for now. My value lies in having something you don't have. I have quite a bit of that."

"Like that briefcase in Abby Sciuto's lab?"

"Exactly." She looked at him for a long moment. "You don't know what I took, do you. You're trying to figure it out, but you don't know. Actually, even if you _did_ know, I'll bet you wouldn't know why, why I risked so much to steal it, why I was willing to kill to take it."

"Why did you?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Is Agent McGee going to recover?"

Vance nodded grudgingly. "Yes."

"Well, if I had to be caught, then I am glad that he'll live."

"Who was the other man you shot?"

"A former...colleague of mine."

"Former?"

"I got caught. Even if you don't know what I do, you can guess what the penalties are for blowing one's cover."

"Is that why allowed yourself to be arrested?"

"Of course. You can make all the threats you want to against me, but in the end, even _you_ have to follow the law. My colleagues don't. I simply killed him before he could reciprocate. ...call it self-defense in advance, if you'd like."

"From whom?"

"Ah...that's treading into territory I'm keeping to myself, Director."

"You think you'll be able to avoid jail time completely?"

"Yes. I'm out of prison as long as I'm useful...and I'm _very_ useful. You have no idea how valuable a commodity I am...and not just because I can keep the copier working."

Vance showed nothing outwardly, but inside he was seething. Linda seemed to think she held all the cards...and if he were honest, she certainly held a lot of them. She was most likely right about what would happen. He stood and walked out of the room.

Linda, for her part, didn't try to needle him. It was strange. _She_ was strange. There was no antagonism. Utter confidence, yes, but no real arrogance. She was good and knew she was. He had no doubt that she knew as much as she claimed.

She'd be taken into custody, yes...but she'd essentially be getting away with murder.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

"Is she right, Director Vance?" Tony asked.

"More than likely...if she's being honest about how much she knows. There's no way the powers that be will risk her in a prison setting."

"This sucks! That's not justice!"

"No...it's not, but she is apparently connected to whatever has driven this who rigamarole. It happens all the time. People turn state's evidence and are free."

"Ducky called. McGee was trying to communicate something to him about numbers, but he was sedated and couldn't talk...so..."

"So it could mean nothing."

"Nothing yet from the canvassing," Ziva said. "Lara says they are still trying. No luck so far."

"If you want to try her, Gibbs, feel free, but I don't think you'll get anything out of her. She's already admitted to the crimes we can charge her with."

"Oh, and Lovitz says that Metro is going to argue priority," Tony added helpfully.

Vance groaned inwardly. "Just what I need. Someone else to fight with. There's no way Metro will get her, even if I had any intention of handing her off. Agent David, have you figured out what is missing from the briefcase?"

"Not yet, Director."

"Take Abby and work on it. We need ammunition, not just a smoking gun."

"Yes, Director."

"DiNozzo, see if you can track down who she really is. Linda Kionen can't be her real name, although the identity is solid enough to get past all the vetting she went through to get this job."

"On it, Director."

"Gibbs...I hate to mention it, but you do still have an active case going on."

"Right. Manior is in custody."

"Do you think you can finish everything up with that and hand it over to JAG?"

"No one has written their reports."

"I understand, but we need to make sure that we don't mess up on one case because of this."

"I'll get on it, Leon."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby and Ziva stared at the mass of pieces. They'd both been up for a number of hours without any kind of real break and this was just a mess to them.

Abby gave a long sigh. "I'm not seeing it."

"Nor am I."

"Maybe there's nothing to see. Maybe she's just putting us on because she can."

"There is. There must be."

"We've been staring at this for hours. Maybe that's why Tim was pointing to Ducky's watch. We've been wasting time."

Ziva laughed. "I doubt that was foremost on McGee's mind at the time." Then, she blinked. "...and yet...this case...this _must_ have been on his mind. What he tried to convey _must_ have been a message for us about Linda and this briefcase."

Abby sat up. "Ducky said that Tim was pointing...not just at his watch...the numbers on the watch."

Ziva smiled. "The numbers."

They both leaned forward and began to sift through the material once more...this time with a purpose. In moments, they had their answer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs sighed and worked through the material they had for the kidnapping case. It seemed pretty clear-cut...except for one thing: Why had Turner been so unwilling to tell them his motivations for robbing Janssen's home? It should have been simple, but he had clammed up...making it _seem_ as if there was something more. It might be nothing, but he couldn't send this over to JAG without checking. He stood up to head to Holding.

"Gibbs! We've got it!" Abby said, running in.

"Got what?"

"We know what she took! Tim was right!"

"Right? About what?"

"Numbers!"

Ziva nodded. "Linda took the combination lock from the briefcase."

"That's it? Nothing else?"

"Not that we have seen."

"I told Tim before that I could never find anything of what might have been _inside_ the case, only the case itself. What if the lock is the only important part?"

"Why?"

"A cipher?" Ziva suggested.

"Whatever it is, Gibbs, it's what she took...and she had time to hide it because I'm pretty sure that they'd have noticed it when they arrested her."

"Okay...Ziva, I need you to go and talk to Turner again."

"Turner?

"See if you can get him to tell you why he robbed Janssen."

"What?"

"Our case, Ziva," Gibbs said. "We need to finish it up. There are some discrepancies. Go and talk to him...but wait on Manior until you get an answer."

"What about me, Gibbs?" Abby asked.

"As soon as you report to Vance, relieve Tony on the search for Linda's real identity. Send him to work with Ziva. I want to get this stuff figured out before the end of the day. We need to focus on McGee and we can't do that with these loose ends. Got it?"

"Yes, Gibbs."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Turner, I have some questions for you," Ziva said.

"More questions?"

"Yes...and I will not tolerate any further stonewalling from you. You will tell me why you are afraid to reveal your motivations in robbing Theresa Janssen's home. How did you know about the jewelry and why did you choose that place?"

Turner swallowed. "I...I already told you everything."

"No. You did not...but you will. Now."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Boss," Tony said. "I was going over Manior's record and...well, look."

Gibbs sighed and took a look at what Tony had. Then, he looked again.

"Yeah...strange coincidence, isn't it? Manior being transferred to that section of the prison at the same time Turner was sentenced."

"Get Manior put in Interrogation."

"On it, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You are wasting my time, Turner! We know there is more to the story! Three of your victims are dead. Theresa Janssen is dead and Manior is claiming that it was all Janssen's idea and he got cold feet. Is that true? If he deals, then _you_ will be left holding the sack."

"The sack?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Tell me the truth, Turner...or you will be the one in trouble."

"Hey, I already helped you guys!"

"And you lied."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, guys, I know I have to go to prison for all this, but what's with the interrogation? I told you that I killed her. Theresa was nuts. I stopped her!"

"Yeah...yeah, you did," Gibbs said. "You definitely stopped her...from telling us anything."

"She was trying to kill you!"

"Yeah, and you didn't give her a chance to give up, did you," Tony said. "Convenient that she's dead and you can pin all the blame on her."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why did you attempt to rob Theresa Janssen's home?"

"He said I'd make a ton of money for it!"

"Who?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Look, none of this was my idea! It was all Theresa's. Besides, Turner's the one who talked me into it in the first place! I might be a crook, but I don't go in for torture."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Greg."

"I thought you only met him in prison."

"I...didn't."

"So you lied."

"We...were in NROTC together...before Manior got kicked out."

"What for?"

"He wasn't...Navy material."

"Then, what material _was_ he?"

"The kind who likes breaking into the commandant's office."

"And you know this because..."

"I helped. He got caught. I didn't."

"And you owed him for not turning you in."

"I didn't know what was going on! It seemed like a coincidence that we'd run into each other in prison!"

"Go on."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva opened the door.

"Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded and he and Tony joined her in the hall. She told him everything that Turner had confessed and they went back into the room.

"So...no prior connection to Turner or to Janssen?"

"No. I told you. Turner asked me to work with him when we served together."

Tony smiled. "You didn't know each other in...say...NROTC in college?"

Manior swallowed.

"Clever, you know, changing your name."

"Twice, in fact," Gibbs said, picking up the thread. "Once after getting kicked out of NROTC and then again when you joined up with Janssen for the first time."

Manior said nothing.

"Now, we dropped the ball, I have to admit. We didn't check on your prior conviction as closely as we should have...or on the conviction from your alias."

"Yes, that was my bad, Boss," Tony said.

"Oh, no. Not your fault."

"No, really."

"How could we have known that this guy had three different names and that he killed his girlfriend?"

Tony looked at Manior. "Wow. That's cold, man. Killing your girlfriend."

Gibbs ended the game. "Turner gave you up, Manior."

"He told us all about you, and you're one sick puppy. Did you plan on killing her or was it just a good opportunity to cut your losses?"

"It was all her idea!"

"But you knew about it beforehand, didn't you?"

"Was Turner just a convenient fall guy...until we found him first?"

Manior smiled. "He always was a puss."

"Too bad we got him first."

"Yeah...too bad."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Lucas Turner pleaded guilty and JAG agreed to give him the chance for parole. Manior refused to take responsibility and the lawyers arranged for him to be arraigned on charges of murder and kidnapping. Lt. Grayson was holding on although he was still in a coma, but doctors were cautiously optimistic. With their part done in the case, NCIS was relieved to be able to refocus their attention on the attack on one of their own.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Tim didn't awaken for the next day. During that time, they tried to pressure Linda into revealing more, but she refused, even when they confronted her about the piece she'd taken from the briefcase. On the second day, the doctors decided to start weaning Tim off mechanical ventilation since his spontaneous breathing trial had gone well. They removed the tube from his throat and replaced it with an oxygen mask. That meant they could ease off on the sedation and Tim could be more alert. Tests of his mental acuity had been inconclusive because of the requirements of mechanical ventilation.

Vance wanted to be able to get Tim's account of what happened before he was forced to give Linda up to anyone else, but if they had to face brain damage, he'd have to allow her to get off scot free. His thoughts seemed, even to him, a bit callous, but it was how he _had_ to think.

...and he hoped that Tim would recover.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The first thing Tim noticed when he woke up was that he didn't have anything in his throat. There was air, but he could breathe at his own pace...and breathing hurt, but it was possible. He focused on that for a while. It was easy enough, but there was something kicking around in his brain, something that told him he should stop just breathing and wake up.

What was it? Why did he have the impression that there was something important going on? He lay there, floating in that same blackness that seemed to make up the bulk of his memory.

_Numbers._

_Numbers._

That seemed important to him. He didn't know why. Idly, he sifted through what he could remember. There was a surprising amount of darkness, of black holes. ...but it didn't feel like the spaces were empty, merely covered by...something. He tried to focus on them, but the ideas kept slipping away as if they were covered by grease.

It was kind of frustrating. As he turned away from the blackness, looking instead at the numbers hovering around the edges of his consciousness, he started to hear things.

Distracted from the examination of his psyche, he listened and caught snatches.

"_...should be awake..."_

"_Now, we can't...wouldn't be..."_

"_We need his help."_

Whose? Tim wondered if it was him being discussed. He tried to remember _why_ he might come up as the topic of conversation. He pushed against the blackness and was surprised to find that it lifted.

Tim opened his eyes...and then found it too bright and closed them. He tried again. His lids lifted and he caught a glimpse of a number of people he felt he probably knew. There was something on his face. It was kind of irritating. He lifted an extraordinarily heavy limb and pushed at it.

Suddenly, there was a lot of noise and motion. It made him feel dizzy and his eyes closed once again.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

How could he not? The voice was jarring. It hurt his head.

"Timothy?"

He decided to try and speak, just to get the noise to stop.

"Loud..." The word was what he had thought of, but it didn't sound like he had expected it to sound.

"I am sorry, Timothy. I will try to be quieter."

The volume did decrease and it was a relief. ...but it was still too bright.

"Bright..." he gasped out. His throat hurt.

Instantly, it seemed, the light pressing in on his eyelids diminished. He tried opening his eyes again. It was much easier that time. The face he saw...he knew who it was.

"Is that better, Timothy?"

There was only one person who called him that. Who was it? Why was his mind so Swiss cheesed?

"Better..."

"How are you feeling?"

Tim looked only at the face he knew. When had he seen that face most recently? There was something...some event...and this same face had been there. What had he called that face?

"Timothy?"

The face he knew withdrew and a stranger bent over him.

"Agent McGee, can you understand me?"

Well, yes, he could understand...although he couldn't quite figure out why the question was being asked in the first place.

One piece of his mind suddenly clicked into place and he knew who had been looking at him before.

"Ducky?" he rasped.

The stranger's face looked away and then moved out of his view. Ducky's face reappeared.

"Yes, Timothy?"

Tim marshaled all his strength to get out more than a single word.

"Whasss...going on?" That hurt. Talking like that hurt.

"What's the last thing you remember, Timothy?"

Tim went back through what he could remember. Ducky's faced loomed rather large in what little he could pull up at the moment.

"You...looking...at me. Why?"

"Do you know where you are, Timothy?"

Tim tried to look around, but it was so hard. He was tired again and he wanted to sleep.

"Perhaps we should lower the medication levels. The painkillers are certainly having an effect."

That voice wasn't familiar...but he had a feeling he did know where he was...if he could remember where that was.

"Timothy?"

He opened his mouth, and to his surprise, the correct word came out.

"Hosssss...pital?"

"Yes. That's correct. Do you remember why?"

"Sick?" ...but no, he knew that wasn't right before he saw Ducky shaking his head.

"No, Timothy...not as such."

"Numbers...in..." Tim struggled against that greasy, slippery blackness. "...a wheel."

"Yes, you told me that before."

"Can't...think...straight," Tim said. "Holes..."

Ducky's face receded again and was replaced by the stranger.

"Agent McGee, I'm Dr. Torgrimson. I've been overseeing your case for the last few days. You're on some pretty heavy-duty pain medication right now. That may be a part of your amnesia. We can lower the levels, but that will mean you feel more pain. Would you like to try?"

"Yes," Tim said instantly. That feeling of something important needing to be communicated was still there.

"Okay. We'll do that now, but it will take some time. If, at any time, you don't want that anymore, you can ask for a return to the former levels. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Okay. In the meantime, you have a number of friends here. They'll stay and talk to you, if you'd like."

"Tired."

"Okay. Why don't you just rest a while, then."

Tim closed his eyes and fell back into the blackness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Is he all right?" Abby asked, as she watched Tim's eyes close. "What's going on?"

"It could just be a combination of the lingering effects of the sedatives, the painkillers... It could also be brain damage that could be permanent or temporary. We won't know until more time has gone by. He understood us, although speaking is understandably difficult. He took a bullet to the chest, had multiple lung collapse. That affects the amount of oxygen reaching his brain. He also was on mechanical ventilation which often irritates the vocal cords. Don't look on this as a definite indication of his situation. Just be patient."

There were a lot of people in the room, and Tim's lack of interest in them, his complaint about noise...it had made his awakening less of a cause to celebrate and more of a worry. What if he _was_ brain damaged? What then?

Tim seemed to have fallen asleep instantly. They all looked at him. He looked almost normal...if one ignored the IVs, the heart monitor, the oxygen mask, the...the fact that he'd been shot and almost died.

He was alive, but they wanted him to be healed. Perhaps it was that the kidnapping case had turned out so badly...

They just wanted to know that Tim was going to recover.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How much longer are you going to put us off, Director Vance?" Fornell asked. "You know you can't keep her forever. She has the potential to tell us too much."

"She committed murder, attempted to murder one of my agents and stole from an NCIS lab. That puts her quite firmly in my jurisdiction."

"She also may be connected with terrorists, espionage. That puts her in a _lot_ of jurisdictions."

"Go and tell your bosses that she's going to stay mine until such time that I am required to give her up. Not until then."

Fornell smiled and stood. "I figured as much, but you know I have to do my job...and _you_ know that you're going to have to give her up. The powers that be won't care what she did, only what she knows."

"I know," Vance said, standing as well.

"How is he?" Fornell asked.

"Alive. Looks like he'll pull through, but I don't know in what state."

"Understood."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next time Tim woke up, it was the pain that drove him from the darkness...and it happened a lot faster than the last time. In fact, he was surprised he could remember the last time. He heard a beeping sound...and after a few minutes of listening, he decided that it must be his heart. He could still feel that thing on his face and he didn't like it. His throat still hurt. He tried to open his eyes again and found that it was easier than last time...and that it wasn't nearly so bright as it had been.

He took a breath and it hurt. He exhaled and it hurt. ...but his mind seemed to be working better than it had been before. He tried looking around, and it seemed to work. He pushed at the thing on his face again.

_An oxygen mask! That's what it is!_

"Boss," he said hoarsely, pulling it away from his mouth and nose.

Gibbs was right there beside him but not looking at him at the moment. His head turned.

"McGee, welcome back."

"I'm in the hospital," he said, remembering the question from last time.

"Yes, you are," he said and moved the mask back over his face. "Don't push it. You need the help right now. You remember what happened?"

Tim tried to think about it.

"Linda," he said through the mask and winced at a particularly painful breath.

"You all right?"

"It hurts...when I breathe."

"Yeah. The doc said it would. Is it too much?"

Tim shook his head. "Linda..." He remembered. "...she shot me."

Gibbs almost seemed to sigh with relief.

"Yeah. Can you tell me what happened?"

Tim took a breath and let it out slowly and then pulled the oxygen mask from his face again.

"I can't talk through this thing," he said.

"Okay. You stop and breathe whenever you need to, McGee. Don't rush it."

Tim nodded and took another inhalation and winced.

"I forgot...my phone. It was...in the lab." Tim closed his eyes and tried to remember. "She...was there. I didn't..." He exhaled in almost a laugh. "...didn't even _think_ about her being..."

He put the mask back over his face and breathed for a few seconds.

"We can wait, McGee."

Tim shook his head. "No. I'll finish...while I remember." He tried to smile. "She turned...around...and ...and she had...the lock in her hand...and a gun in the other. It was...so fast."

"It usually is."

"It was. She...said that...that she didn't want to kill me, but she had to get away."

"She didn't."

"What?"

"She didn't get away, McGee. We got her...because you survived and told Ducky. We started looking for her right away."

"Good thing...Ducky was there." Tim felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury and everything to do with how close he had come to dying. "What if...he hadn't...come?"

Gibbs put the oxygen mask back over Tim's face.

"Just breathe, McGee. He came. You survived. You're going to be all right."

"What about Linda?" Tim asked, his voice muffled.

Gibbs sighed.

"Boss?"

"She's in custody."

Tim looked at Gibbs, knowing there was something he was missing but feeling as though his mind just wasn't going to be able to come up with what it was.

"Boss?"

Gibbs sighed again. "She knows too much, McGee. Things that the other agencies want to know."

"No trial?"

"Probably not."

Tim let his eyes drift up toward the ceiling again. He was really tired.

"But will she go free?"

"No."

Tim felt as though the world was going gray. He was fast running out of steam. Gibbs seemed to notice.

"Don't worry, McGee. You're safe and you're going to be okay."

Tim nodded and fell back into blackness.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Yes, sir," Vance said in resignation. "I understand."

"_Do you?"_

"Yes."

"_Will you comply?"_

"Of course."

"_You realize that these orders come from the top?"_

Vance smiled grimly. "If they weren't, you wouldn't find me capitulating so easily."

The SecNav smiled back, just as humorlessly. _"No dragging your feet on this one, Leon. They want Linda Kionen and they want her now. I want the arrangements made and executed _today_."_

"Understood."

"_Today, Leon. No delays."_

Vance nodded and made the cutoff signal. The SecNav's face disappeared and he shook his head in disgust. He was a political animal himself, had to be to have the job he did...but this pandering to a criminal because of the knowledge she probably possessed turned his stomach. If ever there was a deal with the devil going on...

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"We have a call coming in from the FBI."

Vance sighed. He should have known they would be waiting for the sign.

"Put them through." He straightened, fixed a bland expression on his face and waited.

"_Director Vance."_

"Director Thompson," he said evenly.

"_We need to arrange for the transfer of your prisoner."_

"Yes, we do."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The elevator doors opened, and Linda was led, handcuffed, through the bullpen, past the desks of the MCRT. Tony and Ziva glared at Fornell and Sacks as they conducted her away from any chance of facing justice. To their credit, they moved quickly and they didn't try to gloat. They knew that they were being forced to help a person escape punishment. As a willing informant, she'd be coddled. No jail time. No trial. Metro had already been glad-handed...but since they weren't fighting for justice for one of their own, they hadn't put up much of a fight.

What Linda thought about all of it was unknown. Her expression was almost serene. They waited for the elevator, and when it opened Gibbs was there.

"Leaving us, are you?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"Looks like it, Agent Gibbs."

"Step aside, Gibbs," Fornell said. "No point in putting it off. You know that."

"Enjoy your stay with the government."

Now, she smiled. "I'll revel in every minute...no matter how long...or how short those minutes may be."

"Let's go," Sacks grumbled and urged her forward.

Gibbs moved out of the way and watched the doors close.

"This is not right, Gibbs," Ziva said.

"This sucks, Boss."

"Nothing we can do about it," Gibbs said in the same soft voice.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Gibbs turned around and faced his team and then glanced at Tim's empty desk.

"Don't like it," he said, and now they could see that his soft voice was to control the fury expressed in his clenched jaw and fiery eyes. "But in the end, we don't have any other choice but to accept it."

"We all knew this would happen," Vance said, unexpectedly joining them. "Once it became clear just what she could offer, there was no way we'd be able to do what we wanted. NCIS doesn't have enough clout for it."

"Yeah, and how long did it take you to roll over, Director Vance?" Gibbs asked.

"Until the President ordered me to give her up, Agent Gibbs," Vance said, sternly. "You are not the only one disappointed in how the system works...but you should also be fully _aware_ of how it works."

"She is too confident," Ziva said. "I do not like this."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "The way she moves, the way she talks. She knows what she can do and probably has loads of plans. She got into NCIS as an employee! I wouldn't think that she'd give up so easily. Why would she? Why would she need to?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes, feeling the pain in his chest, in his throat, but at least more aware than he'd been before. The oxygen mask was still on his face. He still didn't like it, but this time he recognized its necessity.

"Tim! Oh, honey, I'm glad you're awake."

Tim moved his head, slightly embarrassed that it flopped a little. He still didn't have much control over himself. His body was taking a lot longer than his mind was to bounce back. Moving seemed really hard.

"Hey...Mom," he said in the same breathy voice that seemed to be all he could manage.

"How are you feeling?"

Tim closed his eyes tiredly and shook his head. There weren't words (or breath) to describe how he felt right now. A light hand brushed the hair from his forehead.

"Don't worry. I'm not expecting anything. I'm just glad you're all right."

"Dad?" Tim asked, breathing because he couldn't stop, but feeling the pain.

"He'll be here soon. He just went out for a moment."

A tear escaped from his eye.

"What is it, Tim?"

"Hurts. Hurts to breathe."

Tim felt a hand slip into his.

"I just called for your doctor. He'll be here. In the meantime, feel free to squeeze my hand as hard as you want."

Tim tried to squeeze her hand, but he couldn't manage much force...nor could he stop the tears.

He heard the door open.

"He says it hurts to breathe."

"All right. Tim, do you remember me?"

Tim opened his eyes. "Doctor?"

"Yes, I'm your doctor. That's good. Chest pain?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay. Getting the right dosage for these kinds of things is hard and we'll increase it a bit. I'll get a nurse in to check on the chest tube, make sure no clots are forming. Is it hard to breathe, besides the pain?"

Tim inhaled. There was a slight resistance to deep breaths but nothing extreme.

"Not...really...just hurts."

"Okay. Don't worry. We'll find that happy medium between managing your pain and helping you stay aware."

Tim simply laid his head back and looked at the ceiling. It was easier than trying to focus. He could feel the holes in his body from Linda shooting him.

"It's all right, Tim. We're here."

"Dad," Tim said. "It hurts."

"It won't soon."

Tim nodded and closed his eyes again, trying not to cry...mostly because that would hurt more. After a few minutes, a nurse came in and increased the dosage of his analgesics. Then, she checked his vitals, his oxygen intake, his chest tube. No new clots were visible, and that was a relief for them all...particularly when, after a few more minutes, Tim felt the pain lessening. It didn't go away completely, but he found it much more tolerable. Breathing wasn't so much of an agony. He didn't know how much time had passed from when he'd awakened, but he didn't care. He knew that Linda had been captured, that he had related what he knew. Now, he just wanted to focus on living...breathing. Time didn't matter. His part was over.

As he opened his eyes and gave his parents a teary smile, he thought that the one thing he wanted now was to ask Linda if she had really felt bad about shooting him. It didn't really matter whether she did or not, but he had been taken in...again...and that person had tried to kill him...again. He wanted to know if there had been anything real.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Linda sat in the car and smiled congenially at Sacks.

"You don't seem worried," he said.

"I'm not. Maybe _you_ should be."

"Why do you say that?" Sacks asked, straightening slightly in his seat.

Linda just smiled and looked out the window. When the car began to slow down for a red light, she took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but if I'm not mistaken, the ride is just about over."

"Wha–?" Fornell didn't even have a chance to turn around in his seat.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim fell asleep not long after the nurse adjusted his dosage. It was a relief, and he was happy knowing that his parents were there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance hung up his phone and sat back in his chair, almost in shock. He allowed himself a minute to collect himself.

_How could this have happened?_

_How could we have been so stupid?_

_How did she anticipate this?_

The questions ran fast and thick until he put an end to them and stood up. It wasn't time for those questions. His position was such that showing up at the developing scene would be the right thing to do...and he would take his MCRT with him. They would need to be there, if only for their own sake and not for the sake of those involved.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Linda ran through the streets. She had long since left her surviving compatriot behind. He'd show up...another corpse. How many tears would be shed for him? Who knew, certainly not Linda...and she didn't much care either. She had a timeframe to follow, only so much time until her desired destination would no longer be viable.

They hadn't found her hiding place either which was even better. It would stay secure. If she played her cards right, she'd be able to do it all and be out of Washington DC before the sun set.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony got out of the car first and looked around at the carnage. It was like the street had been transported into a war zone. Shattered glass, scraped up car doors, a crumpled grill.

"Hey, is that Fornell?" he asked as an injured man was loaded into an ambulance.

"There is Agent Sacks," Ziva said, pointing to another ambulance where the FBI agent was sitting getting onsite treatment. His eye was black and he had blood on the collar of his shirt. Another agent was getting checked out...by an ME. He was dead.

"What happened?" Tony asked.

"She said the minutes might be short," Gibbs said.

They walked over to Sacks. He grimaced as he saw them approach.

"Don't even say it," he said. "If you're here to gloat, don't bother."

"What happened, Agent Sacks?" Vance asked.

"I don't even know. One minute we were slowing down for a red light, the next minute..." He pointed toward the body and he flushed a little when he noticed that his hand was shaking a bit. "...Agent Jordan hit me right in the face. I blacked out. When I came to, Linda Kionen was gone. Jordan was dead and Fornell was..."

"He going to be all right?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. Two gunshots, one grazed his head, the other got his shoulder. They think he's going to be fine, but he was out when I came to. Agent Druer was gone, too. I think we have to assume he was in on it."

"You sure?"

Sacks nodded and then winced. "Druer and Jordan were replacements. They volunteered. We should have been more suspicious. We weren't."

"Did you have any reason to be before this?" Tony asked, sounding almost sympathetic.

Sacks raised an eyebrow at Tony's tone.

"Only in hindsight. Nothing at the time." He sighed. "So much for a quiet transfer."

"We should have known that she would not give up so easily," Ziva said, repeating Tony's observation from earlier. "We, too, screwed up."

"Does the FBI want our help in tracking her down?" Vance asked. "I can have my teams who have been investigating her movements return to the task."

Sacks almost smiled. "You know very well that I don't have the authority to say anything about that."

"You're here. Do you have any objections?"

"I'm certainly not going to be running laps today."

"Or tomorrow," the EMT said sternly.

"Browbeaten to the end," Tony commented.

_Thwack!_

"Right, Boss. Bad timing."

"Well?"

"Go ahead. If you find Agent Druer, feel free to get rough. He must have been the one who shot Fornell."

"So noted."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Linda walked out of the bank. She'd modified her appearance only slightly, but with the hush-hush nature of her arrest and transfer, she didn't have to worry about being on television for a few more hours at least. The heavy combination lock in her pocket was a comforting weight. She had removed the data from inside it. She had to say it: her idea to hide the data inside the lock rather than inside the briefcase had been a stroke of genius. Even though they'd had it for years, they hadn't ever bothered to take the lock apart. Even a scan wouldn't have helped. It was lead inside, accounting for its uncommon weight.

There was one more destination. Through adroit eavesdropping on unimportant conversations, she had determined where Tim had been taken after she had shot him. One more place to go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hello, I'm a friend of Timothy McGee. Could you tell me what room he's in?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Lara looked around Dupont Circle. What street would she start down this time?

"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo," she said, pointing at the various streets.

Geri laughed at her. "Lovely and scientific, Lara."

"You have a better idea? Connecticut Avenue is as good a choice as any."

"Granted. After you."

They headed down the street, taking turns showing Linda's picture at every business to see if she'd been there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...and then Jenna told me that Prof. Jenkins had accidentally locked himself out of the room. The class waited for him for fifteen minutes and couldn't figure out why he wasn't there. I still don't know why he didn't just knock on the door," Sarah said, smiling nervously as she spoke.

"Too embarrassing...I guess," Tim said.

There was a soft knock on the door and then it opened. Tim's eyes widened and his heart monitor began to beep a bit faster.

"Hello, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you. I wasn't sure if anyone would be here."

Sarah jumped up, not noticing Tim's reaction.

"Oh, you're not disturbing. I'm just boring Tim with school stories. I'm Sarah."

"I'm Linda. I'm a friend of Tim's from work. I was hoping I could stop by and chat with him on my lunch break...but I can wait and come back later..."

Sarah shook her head quickly. "No, that's all right. I'll just slip out for a few minutes. Be right back, Tim!"

Tim managed to smile, but he couldn't think of anything to say to warn Sarah that Linda was _not _a friend...not without putting Sarah at risk. She was gone in seconds. He knew that she wasn't excited about seeing him like this; so he didn't blame her for skipping out when the opportunity presented itself. She'd be better when he was not so weak...if he had the chance.

The door closed and they were alone.

"You survived," Linda said with a smile.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ah, a bank! That's a good choice," Lara said. "You want to flash the photo or do you want me to?"

"You have have the honors," Geri said. "We need to find something soon. I'm getting tired of repeating myself."

Lara laughed and they headed into the bank.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where would she go?" Tony asked. "She must have a plan for getting out.

Ziva hung up the phone. "That was the FBI. They found Agent Druer's body. He had been shot in the head."

"She doesn't think much of her colleagues, does she," Tony said.

"She shot McGee," Ziva said. "She does not seem to care about others."

Gibbs was staring at her picture on the plasma.

"It's not about caring," Tony said. "It's about planning for every possible contingency. It's too bad she's a bad guy...girl. She'd be great on our side."

"That often seems to be the case."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim pulled the oxygen mask off his face. "You going to kill me now? I can't...get away this time."

Linda shook her head. "No. Your coworkers already know that I shot you."

"Then...why are...you here?" Tim asked.

"I have something for you."

"What?"

Linda pulled the lock out of her pocket. "It's empty now, of course. I thought you might like to have it back. You did suffer a bit to get it and then to try and keep it. Think of it as a souvenir."

Tim looked at the lock. ...the wheel of numbers. He lifted his hand. It was still weak and shaking. The bullet had caused damage to more of his body than just his lung, and he had been fortunate that it had missed his spine. Linda put it into his palm and then closed his fingers over it.

"What...was in it?"

"Names."

"Names?"

"Our informants...like the two FBI agents whose employment ended rather suddenly today."

"Why?" Tim asked. "Why give...me this...thing? Why come here?"

"Believe it or not, Tim, I was glad you survived, even if it complicated my escape plans. It gave me a chance to thin the ranks a bit, and make my case a lot more strongly. I wanted to see how you were doing before I left."

"You...think you'll get away?" Tim was feeling a little lightheaded from all the talking and shallow breathing he was doing.

"I know I will. They might think of coming here, but not just yet. I have time."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Yes, she was here. She's been a customer for about three years. She came in less than an hour ago," the manager said. "Why?"

"She's wanted for murder," Geri said seriously.

"What?"

"She's wanted for murder," Lara repeated. "And attempted murder and treason. She's not a nice person."

"Can we find out what she did here, please?"

"Of course! Of course! Anything to help."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, so she didn't have the lock on her when Lovitz' team picked her up," Tony said. "That means she either passed it off to someone or else..."

"Or else she put it in a safe deposit box that she has already come and emptied," Gibbs finished, having hung up the phone.

"Or that..."

"They found her?" Ziva asked.

"No. They found where she went. She had a safe deposit box at an HSBC Bank near Dupont Circle. It was emptied about an hour ago."

"So...where else would she go?"

"She needs to escape. She must have a plan for that, but she could not put it off for long," Ziva said. "An hour...she could be well away from here."

Suddenly, Tony sat up. "...or getting rid of any witnesses. McGee."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What are you...going to...do now?"

"Now? I'm going to leave. I have places to go."

"What...about Sarah?"

"She has nothing to fear from me unless she tries to stop me from leaving. Since you were smart enough not to let her know who I am, that won't be an issue."

Tim looked at her and asked the one question he really wanted answered. "Was...it...all an...act?"

Linda stood up and walked to the door without answering. Then, she paused just before opening it. She turned around.

"Tim...the thing about my job is that you don't act. You be. I've rarely lied about enjoying someone's company. You and Abby were...people I could have been friends with...if I hadn't been forced to shoot you. I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I'm very good at what I do...no matter what that might be. I'm good at it. I was a good assistant for Director Vance. I am an even better..." She stopped and smiled. "...let's just say I'm even better at my real job. I intend to make sure that continues. It was nice to meet you, Tim. I hope your recovery is swift."

Then, she was gone. Tim's hand clenched around the small combination lock as he breathed too quickly and strained his weak lung. He tried to control himself. He hadn't been that scared when he had first seen Linda...even when she'd had the gun and shot him.

He forgot to move the oxygen mask back in place.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony, Gibbs and Ziva ran into the hospital, guns drawn, through the halls to Tim's room. Sarah stood up in the waiting area, shocked, but they couldn't stop to assure her. They didn't know if they could anyway.

The door to Tim's room was closed. Gibbs nodded to Tony and Ziva who took up flanking positions.

Gibbs counted down silently and then they threw open the door. Tim was on the bed, oxygen mask around his neck, breathing loudly and painfully. His eyes were tightly closed and he was whimpering a little. Gibbs gestured for Tony and Ziva to check the bathroom. He holstered his gun and moved quickly to the bed.

"McGee?"

"Boss?" Tim gasped out.

Gibbs pulled the oxygen mask back over Tim's nose and mouth and then put an arm around his shoulders.

"Breathe slowly. It's okay."

Tim was wheezing into the mask.

"Slow. Calm down, McGee. It's all right. You're all right."

"All clear, Boss," Tony reported.

"Was she here, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim nodded as his breathing slowly began to calm.

"Came in...left..." His muffled voice gasped out.

"It's all right," Gibbs said again. "You're fine."

"McGee...what is that in your hand?" Ziva asked.

Tim lifted his hand and shakily relaxed his fingers.

"That is..."

"...the...lock."

"Why did she give it to you, Probie?"

"Keepsake. She said." Tim took a deep breath and then winced. "She said there were names inside it, but she'd...taken them out."

"We never thought to look there," Ziva said.

Tim shook his head.

"She's gone?"

Tim nodded. "She got away."

"It looks that way, but we'll find her."

Tim smiled unexpectedly and pulled the mask from over his face.

"No, Tony... Linda got away. The case is over."

"Are you sure, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim nodded, feeling suddenly very, very tired.

"What she wants to do...she does. She wanted...me alive. I am."

"Now what?"

"I'm going to sleep," Tim said and closed his eyes.


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Eight months later..._

"Mail call!" Tim said, walking into the bullpen.

"Why are you letting Tony make you get the mail, McGee?" Ziva asked as Tim handed her an envelope.

"I don't mind," Tim said.

"You are back on field duty now. You should not be taking on the job of menial laborer."

Tim laughed and set a couple of padded envelopes on Tony's desk.

"It's hardly menial labor...it's hardly labor at all. I don't mind it."

He got to the bottom of the pile and stared shock.

"What is it, McGee?" Ziva asked in concern.

"Linda..."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Ms. McEnroe, you certainly come very highly recommended."

"I know."

"How long have you been in New York?"

"Not very long. I only arrived a few weeks ago. I'm still looking for an apartment...one that I can afford."

"That's hard to do in New York itself. You might have to commute."

"I'm willing to do that. Jobs like this don't come up very often."

"That's true."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Linda?"

"Kionen... She shot me, remember?"

"What about her?" Ziva stood up and walked over to where Tim was standing, holding an envelope tightly in his hand.

"This is from her."

"What?"

"She wrote me a letter."

"Are you sure it is safe?"

"It's a normal envelope. No SWAK on it," he said with a faint smile.

"Hey, what's up?" Tony asked as he got off the elevator. "Collusion? Dissension in the ranks?"

Ziva glared as she put a calming hand on Tim's back. "Linda Kionen sent McGee a letter."

"Oh...maybe you shouldn't open it, McGee."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, I'm pleased to welcome you, Ms. McEnroe."

"So I have the job?"

"Yes. I think you're just what we need here."

"Thank you!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I have to open it, Tony," Tim said, still staring at the envelope. He began rubbing at his chest where Linda had shot him. "I have to know what she has to say...and why."

"Maybe it's like the crazy lady who came after me."

"It's not."

"Are you sure?"

"Ninety-five percent sure. If Linda wanted me dead, she'd have killed me either of the other two times she had the opportunity."

"Perhaps you should open it, then," Ziva said. "If that is what you want to do."

Tim nodded and slid his finger beneath the flap...smiling as Tony took an involuntary step backwards and then stepped forward again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Is there anything else?"

"Only this: Welcome to the United Nations, Ms. McEnroe."

Carmen McEnroe smiled and shook the man's hand.

"Thank you. I'm glad to be here," she said sincerely.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"A postcard?" Tony asked in surprise. "That's it?"

"What does it say, McGee?"

Tim turned it over.

"_Dear Tim, I hope you have fully recovered by now. I have."_

"That's it?" Tony repeated.

Tim nodded and turned it back over.

"'Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?'" Ziva read. "What does that mean?"

"It's an old computer game," Tim said. "You go around the world searching for clues about a woman wanted by Interpol for stealing information...or something like that."

"Why would she send you something like this?"

"She said she did genuinely like me," Tim answered. "I guess she wanted me to know she still was around."

"Did she think that you'd really care?"

Tim stared at the postcard. "She knows I would."

"Are you all right, McGee?"

Straightening, Tim nodded.

"Yeah. I'm fine. You know what this means, don't you? She's back at it...wherever she is."

"It would seem so."

"Do you think she'll come after you again?"

"No. She won't. That would be gratuitous and unnecessary. She just wanted me to know."

"Do you hate her, McGee?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't hate me, though. That's enough."

"You sure, Probie?"

Tim finally looked away from the postcard and met Tony's gaze.

"Yeah, Tony. I'm sure."

"Grab your gear. Dead petty officer at Quantico," Gibbs said, striding into the bullpen. He paused at Tim's desk. "McGee...you all right?"

Tim smiled. Of course Gibbs would know. "Yeah, Boss."

"Okay. Let's roll."

Tim grabbed his backpack and set the postcard on his desk. Then, he ran to catch up to the others. He had a job to do, people he trusted and that was what he wanted.

...but he couldn't help wondering...Where in the world _was _Carmen San Diego?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Carmen McEnroe, aka Linda Kionen, smiled as she walked out of the main building of the United Nations.

It was good to be back to work again.

FINIS!

"A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. **For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. **He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague."

~ Marcus Tullius Cicero


End file.
